Exploring the Hidden Meaning Behind a Polish Masterpiece: Nec Mergitur by Ferdynand Ruszczyc
If you’ve seen this painting of a sailing ship, scattering water drops like diamonds in its wake, you may have wondered, as I did, about its story. The swirling stars and shimmering waves in jewel-like colors lend this marine painting a magical quality that is hard to forget. Adding to its mystery is the fact that it has an intriguing message of hope and struggle for liberty at its core.
Nec mergitur. 1904-1905. Ferdynand Ruszczyc
Ferdynand Ruszczyc (1870–1936) was a Polish painter known for his atmospheric and stirring landscapes. He depicted the snowy forests and plowed fields of his home, imbuing his images with a legendary and epic depth and gravity. One of his most impressive paintings is Ziemia (Land), painted in 1898.
Ziemia. 1898. Ferdynand Ruszczyc
The painting currently known as Nec Mergitur was painted in 1904-1905. The title is part of the Latin phrase fluctuat nec mergitur “(she) is tossed by the waves but doesn’t sink.” This phrase has been the motto of Paris since 1853. Quite appropriately, too, since its coat-of-arms bears a ship sailing on the waves.
The coat-of-arms of the city of Paris, from Travel France Online
But what does Ruszczyc’s beautiful ship have to do with Paris? Nothing, in fact. Instead of referring to Paris, the painting is a subtle patriotic message, painted at a time when open support of Polish independence wasn’t welcomed by the Russian Imperial government.
According to contemporaries of the artist, the painting may have been inspired by Henryk Sienkiewicz’s novella Legenda żeglarska (A Sailor’s Legend). It tells the story of a mighty ship named Purpura, which is lost because of its crew’s pride, referring allegorically to Poland’s difficult history, with its powerful and impactful past and latter invasion by the Russian Empire. It’s not the only instance of a country being compared to a ship in literature, with its government shown as the crew. Horace, in one of his poems, compares Rome to a ship. He uses this nautical metaphor to critique those at the helm (i.e. the rulers).
Nec mergitur. 1904-1905. detail. Ferdynand Ruszczyc
Ferdynand Ruszczyc painted Nec Mergitur in 1904-1905, right before the Łódź insurrection against the Russian rule. It was a time when many Polish intellectuals were looking forward with hope to the possibility of Polish independence. The sails of the ship in Ruszczyc’s painting are crimson red, just as the red in Poland’s flag. In fact, it’s possible that the imagery of a ship, flying its national colors and returning from afar to its country’s rescue, is a reference to the Polish national anthem, which contains the words:
To save our homeland,
We shall return across the sea[1].
Nec Mergitur is a message of hope, but also a warning of sorts to not miss the opportunity for a united and free country. Curiously, the patriotic message isn’t obvious to the modern viewer, who first of all sees it as an enchanting depiction of the sea, with its billowing waves and broad expanses of stars overhead. Marine painters have been trying to capture the sea's magnetic appeal since the 17th century when Dutch Golden Age artists popularized the images of ships at sea. Marine art experienced a peak in popularity in the 19th century, with painters like Aivazovsky creating stunning seascape masterpieces, and even landscape painters, like Albert Bierstadt, often turning to the sea in search of powerful and moving themes.
Nec Mergitur, however, isn't a simple marine painting, and it doesn't depict a modern ship. A contemporary vessel, after all, would have looked more like the impressive but totally prosaic ship in the painting by English maritime painter William Lionel Wyllie.
Thames River Arrival, Mooring the Iron Ship. circa 1895. William Lionel Wyllie
In fact, from what can be seen of the ship’s build, it looks like a galleon, a powerful sailing ship used in Europe from the 16th to the 18th century. The image of the dazzling ship, glowing with lights and bright sails, calls to mind something from a fairy-tale or an adventure story. The upward perspective, as if you’re looking at the ship from the waves, adds to the breathtaking majesty of the night scene.
The Spanish Armada of 1588. Claesz van Wieringen
Actually, part of the painting’s lasting appeal is that it isn’t just a political allegory, but first and foremost a nocturnal seascape of haunting beauty. It conveys the thrill of the open seas, the yearning for far-off lands and adventure, as well as the quiet awe felt in the presence of the mystery that the sea has always symbolized for landbound humans.
The ship’s stern and right side are all that is seen, apart from the glorious red sails embroidered with gold. What’s interesting is that the shape of the ship seems more organic than man-made, slightly reminiscent of Gaudi’s grotto-like cathedral in Barcelona. It’s difficult to see where the waves end and the ship’s wooden hull begins.
Ruszczyc created a moving image of the sea and ship as they should be, but only ever are in imagination. The ship sails into the night, confident and beautiful, pursuing a course that it alone knows. The foaming waves and the roaming stars don’t seem to hinder its progress. Instead, they join in the harmonious movement of the ship, with its course set for freedom and purpose.
Further Reading:
Maciej Gloger, The Legacy of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Nowa Panorama Literatury Polskiej
Легенда о парусном корабле, Ruszczyc.eu
Cloud – Ferdynand Ruszczyc, Culture.pl
[1] https://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/periods-genres/national-anthems/lyrics-poland-mazurek-dbrowskiego-english-translation/
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