The Enigma of Lilith: A Story of Seduction, Power, and Rebellion in John Collier’s Painting
In the cool hush of a Victorian gallery, beneath the glass canopy of London’s Southport Atkinson Art Gallery, a serpentine figure lounges in a posture both elegant and unsettling. Her skin is pale as moonlight, her red hair coils like fire around her shoulders, and a snake winds itself lovingly about her limbs. This is Lilith, the controversial figure immortalized by English artist John Collier in his 1892 painting, a woman whose legend predates Eve, whose name once struck fear into the hearts of mothers and theologians, and whose story today pulses with renewed resonance in a modern age questioning the constructs of gender, power, and sin.
Collier’s Lilith is not merely a painting. It is an invitation, an invitation to witness rebellion in its most ancient, feminine form.
John Collier and the Allure of Myth
John Collier (1850–1934), a leading Pre-Raphaelite-inspired artist and writer, was no stranger to depicting mythological and literary figures. He moved within the artistic and intellectual circles of Victorian England, engaging with figures like Thomas Huxley and George Eliot. Collier was fascinated by strong, often tragic, women, his brush gave life to figures like Lady Godiva, Clytemnestra, and of course, Lilith.
In painting Lilith, Collier was not just making a visual statement; he was participating in a cultural conversation. The 19th century was grappling with the implications of Darwin, the questioning of biblical literalism, and the rise of the “New Woman”, an independent, educated woman who often clashed with the Victorian ideals of femininity. Lilith, the mythic first wife of Adam who refused to submit, became a powerful symbol for this evolving archetype.
Lilith: The Forgotten First Woman
To understand the gravity of Collier’s Lilith, one must journey back into ancient Hebrew lore, mysticism, and folklore. In Jewish mythology, particularly in the Alphabet of Ben-Sira, a medieval text from the 8th to 10th century CE, Lilith is said to have been Adam’s first wife, created from the same dust as he was.
But unlike Eve, who was fashioned from Adam’s rib and thus from his body, Lilith was his equal from the start. This equality, however, became a point of contention. According to the legend, Adam demanded dominance, even in the most intimate moments. Lilith refused.
“I will not lie beneath you,” she declared, “for we are equal.”
Adam protested, and Lilith, uttering the ineffable name of God, fled the Garden of Eden. She chose exile over submission, becoming a creature of the night, a mother of demons, and a consort of fallen angels.
What Was Lilith’s Sin?
So what was Lilith’s sin? Was it defiance? Pride? Lust?
In the context of patriarchal interpretations, her sin was disobedience, a woman refusing to be ruled by a man. This sin transformed her in the eyes of later theologians into a dangerous figure. In some Jewish folklore, Lilith becomes a succubus, a killer of infants, a seductress who drains men in their sleep. In Christian lore, she is sometimes equated with the serpent who tempts Eve, a link that Collier subtly hints at in his painting by wrapping a snake around her nude form.
But if we step outside the traditional lens and view Lilith from a modern perspective, her “sin” becomes an act of self-assertion. She chose autonomy over safety, independence over comfort, knowledge over ignorance. She became the first woman to say “no.”
Collier’s Lilith: A Portrait of Feminine Power and Temptation
In Lilith by John Collier, the viewer is not simply observing a mythic figure, they are being seduced by her presence. The painting’s composition is simple yet profoundly symbolic.
Lilith reclines on a dark background, nude, unabashed, a redheaded siren of ancient rebellion. The serpent slithers up her arm, its head resting against her cheek like a lover. Her expression is unreadable, calm, cold, knowing. She does not smile, but her eyes challenge the viewer, as if she is fully aware of the power she holds and dares you to either fear it or worship it.
Collier’s choice of red hair is no accident. Red hair, especially in the Victorian era, was often associated with sexual passion, wildness, and danger. This aligns Lilith with other red-haired femme fatales like Rossetti’s Lady Lilith (1866–68) or even the literary figures of the time, like the fiery-haired Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair. Lilith is not merely a symbol of temptation, she is the temptation, the knowledge, and the consequence, all in one.
The snake, an age-old symbol of temptation, fertility, and wisdom, becomes more than just a prop, it’s a partner. The entwining of serpent and woman in this context could be seen as Collier’s subversion of the Edenic tale. If Eve was tempted by the snake, Lilith has become one with it.
What Does Lilith Symbolize?
Over time, Lilith has come to symbolize different things for different eras:
In ancient times, she was a cautionary tale, a warning against women who strayed from the roles prescribed to them.
In the Middle Ages, she was a demon, the embodiment of unchecked female sexuality and maternal danger.
In the 19th century, she emerged in art and literature as a tragic beauty, a fallen woman, erotic yet damned.
In contemporary feminist readings, Lilith is a symbol of liberation, the patron saint of the independent woman who refuses to be objectified or silenced.
John Collier’s painting sits at the intersection of these interpretations. His Lilith is seductive, yes, but also regal. She is not ashamed of her nakedness. She does not apologize for her beauty or her defiance. In this way, Collier’s Lilith is both a reflection of Victorian anxieties and a prophetic image of feminine self-possession.
Lilith Today: Reclaiming the Myth
In recent decades, Lilith has been reclaimed by feminist scholars, artists, and writers. From the Lilith Fair music festival of the 1990s, celebrating women in music, to the Lilith Magazine, a Jewish feminist publication, she has become a figure of empowerment.
Modern theologians re-examine her as a necessary counterpart to Eve, not as a rival. While Eve represents obedience and traditional motherhood, Lilith represents strength, choice, and the cost of freedom.
This duality, Eve and Lilith, is echoed in modern storytelling, where women are no longer confined to one archetype. They can be nurturers and warriors, lovers and rebels.
Where Is Collier’s Lilith Today?
John Collier’s Lilith currently resides at the Atkinson Art Gallery in Southport, Merseyside, England. The painting remains one of the standout pieces in their permanent collection. It continues to captivate viewers over a century after it was painted, drawing in audiences not just for its aesthetic beauty but for the questions it provokes.
Visitors often find themselves transfixed, not just by Lilith’s eyes, but by the sense that they are looking at something forbidden, something powerful. The painting does not give easy answers; rather, it challenges the viewer to confront their assumptions about sin, sexuality, gender, and myth.
A Final Thoughts: Why Lilith Still Matters
Why does Lilith still haunt our galleries, our stories, our psyches?
Because Lilith is not just a woman. She is a mirror.
She reflects the fears society has about women who do not conform, about knowledge that is too powerful, about desire that cannot be contained. And in that reflection, she invites us to question not only the stories we’ve been told but the roles we’ve been asked to play.
John Collier, whether he intended it or not, painted more than just a woman with a snake. He painted a rebellion, quiet, coiled, and eternal.
Sources and Further Reading:
The Atkinson Art Gallery Collection: John Collier’s Lilith
The Alphabet of Ben-Sira (Medieval Hebrew Text)
Patai, Raphael. The Hebrew Goddess
Pagels, Elaine. Adam, Eve, and the Serpent
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. Lady Lilith
Articles from Lilith Magazine and other feminist critiques of myth
Victorian art and symbolism studies
