Throughout his relationship with Elizabeth Siddal, Rossetti painted and drew her repeatedly and almost obsessively, creating what Ford Madox Brown termed a “drawer full of Guggums” (Rossetti and Siddal’s pet name for each other). In later years, Rossetti fixed upon Jane Morris as his muse and recreated her image again and again with the same diligence that he had applied to Siddal’s paintings and drawings, but with a new depth and style. He had reached a new phase artistically and brought forth some his most recognizable works.
Author Henry James had seen Rossetti’s paintings of Jane during a visit to Rossetti’s studios. Upon seeing Jane in person, he had this to write:
“A figure cut out of a missal – out of one of Rossetti’s or Hunt’s pictures – to say this gives but a faint idea of her, because when such an image puts on flesh and blood, it is an apparition of fearful and wonderful intensity. It’s hard to say [whether] she’s a grand synthesis of all the pre-Raphaelite pictures ever made – or they a “keen analysis” of her – whether she’s an original or a copy. In either case she is a wonder. Imagine a tall lean woman in a long dress of some dead purple stuff, guiltless of hoops (or of anything else, I should say) with a mass of crisp black hair heaped into great wavy projections on each of her temples, a thin pale face, a pair of strange, sad, deep, dark Swinburnish eyes, with great thick black oblique brows, joined in the middle and tucking themselves under her hair, a mouth like “Oriana” in our illustrated Tennyson, a long neck, without any collar, and in lieu thereof some dozen strings of outlandish beads – in fine Complete. On the wall was a large nearly full-length portrait of her by Rossetti, so strange and unreal that if you hadn’t seen her, you’d pronounce it a distempered vision, but in fact an extremely good likeness.”