Le Philtre d'amour

By 1903 the question of what women were allowed to be, to know and to control was argued openly across Britain. Evelyn De Morgan, a committed spiritualist, answers it slyly here. At first the woman looks like the stock Victorian witch, a black cat at her feet, a potion in her hand. Look again and the room is a scholar's, shelves of books behind her, a gold robe that in alchemy marks the highest stage of knowledge. She reads as a learned adept, mixing her draught with the calm authority of an alchemist. Through the window beyond her, a pair of lovers embrace, the thing her craft is meant to bring about.