With the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, Gustave Doré volunteered to serve in the National Guard. When he was trapped in the siege of Paris, he seized the opportunity to paint his friend the actress Sarah Bernhardt (1844-1923), in what was probably the first portrait in her long and glittering career.

She was only twenty-six at the time, and was just starting a string of successful performances in the city’s Odéon theatre. During the siege she took charge of converting the theatre into a hospital that cared for more than 150 patients. When it re-opened as a theatre the following year, Bernhardt took the lead for a highly successful run. On its opening night, Victor Hugo, author of the play, knelt and kissed her hand.

Doré also produced a series of moving sketches showing the destruction and suffering in Paris at the time of its siege in the autumn of that year.

Among those is his Sister of Charity Saving a Child. An Episode of the Siege of Paris (1870-71).

The following year he committed some of his apocalyptic visions of the siege to canvas, in The Enigma (souvenirs de 1870), and two other major paintings. All three were made using grisaille, greys normally used to model tones in traditional layered technique.

This shows the shattered and still-burning remains of the city in the background, bodies of some of the Prussian artillery in the foreground, and two mythical beasts silhouetted in an embrace. The winged creature is female, and probably represents France, who clasps the head of a sphinx, who personifies the forces that determine victory or defeat. The enigmatic question would then relate to the Franco-Prussian War, and the reasons for France’s defeat.

When Doré visited London he was shocked by its large population of vagrants and homeless. This print of A Couple and Two Children Sleeping on a London Bridge (1871) is one of several records he made at the time, from which a selection was included in his illustrated book on London published the following year.

Doré continued to paint religious narrative works, in particular several versions of Christ’s Entry into Jerusalem. This, a preparatory sketch for his final huge version exhibited at the Salon in 1876, shows his brushwork at its loosest and most gestural. This shows the conventional Christian account in the Gospels, of Christ entering Jerusalem in triumph on the back of a donkey, as the start (‘Palm Sunday’ because of the palm fronds usually involved) of the series of processes leading to his Crucifixion. A popular biblical narrative in European painting, few finished works can match Doré’s at 6 by 10 metres (20 by 33 feet).

In 1873 he visited the Scottish Highlands to fish for salmon, and fell in love with the country. Two of his best paintings of the Highlands are Scottish Highlands (1875) above, and Landscape in Scotland (c 1878) below. These were painted in his studio from the sketches and studies he had made during his tour.

Doré also had good business reasons for being in Britain: in 1867, he held a major exhibition of his work in London, leading to the opening of his Doré Gallery in Bond Street, London. He additionally completed a five year contract with a publisher that required him to stay in London for three months each year.

At the time of his death in 1883, Doré was close to completing another huge painting showing The Vale of Tears. Drawn not from the Gospels but instead from Psalm 83, reinforced in the writings of Saints Jerome and Boniface, and in the mediaeval hymn Salve Regina (‘Hail Holy Queen’), it refers to the tribulations of worldly life left behind when the pious enter heaven. It’s sometimes known as the Valley of Tears.

Christ, bearing a full-sized cross, is in the distance, surrounded by an arch of light. He is beckoning a large crowd struggling up a steep and rough track leading towards him, and the rocky mountains behind. People in the crowd are of all ages, from infants to the aged, many with obvious physical disorders and ailments, all apparently suffering in their ascent up the Vale of Tears. I wonder whether Doré knew that his journey was also coming to a close.

Gustave Doré died in Paris on 23 January 1883 at the age of only 51. His illustrations live on today even though his paintings may have been sadly forgotten.

If you’ve read any of my articles retelling narratives like Dante’s Inferno, you’ll be familiar with the illustrations of Gustave Doré (1832–1883), who is among the most prolific and famous in Europe. His prints overshadow his paintings, the subject of this and tomorrow’s article, and he was also a sculptor. Some of his landscapes are outstanding, but as they were produced during the era of Impressionism have been cast aside by history. In these two articles I concentrate on his narrative oil paintings, for if anyone understood narrative art, it should surely be such a prolific and successful illustrator.

Doré was a precocious child, and started his career as a caricaturist for a newspaper at the age of 15. By the 1850s his illustrations were being commissioned by major publishers in both France and Britain, including those for a new illustrated English Bible. Here are two prints from that work published in 1866.

The first shows the popular story of Judith and Holofernes; Doré avoids the most powerful scene of the decapitation itself, but follows the more guarded approach adopted by Etty and others, to make it more acceptable to a Victorian publisher.

His Death on the Pale Horse, accompanying the book of Revelation 6:8, remains one of the most popular and perhaps iconic portraits of the ‘Grim Reaper’, whose visits to families were all too frequent at the time.

Doré first illustrated Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy as early as 1857, and returned to it in the mid 1860s. He painted several works derived from the first part Inferno. This describes Dante becoming lost in a wood and unable to find the way to salvation. He is rescued by the classical Roman poet Virgil, and the pair then descend and travel through the underworld together. By convention, Dante himself is shown dressed in red robes with a distinctive hat, and Virgil with a laurel wreath on his head.

When he reaches the foot of a hill, Dante sees its upper slopes already lit by the first rays of the sun. As he starts walking up, his way is blocked first by a leopard, then by a lion, and finally by a wolf.

The sinners in hell are divided according to the type of sin; in this oil painting, Doré shows Virgil (left) and Dante at the last of these ‘circles’, the ninth, for those who committed sins of malice, such as treachery. These sinners are shown partially frozen into an icy lake, with additional blocks of ice scattered around, just as described by Dante.

Among the side-stories related by Dante is that of Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, who are in the second circle for sins of lust. She committed adultery with her husband’s brother, Paolo Malatesta. Her husband Giovanni (or Gian Cotto) then killed them both. In this oil painting Doré shows the lovers, Francesca’s stab wound visible near the middle of her chest, Paolo’s still bleeding, as they are blown around and buffeted for their sins. At the lower right he shows Dante and Virgil looking on. This was first shown at the Salon in 1863, and was praised highly by the critics.

Doré also illustrated Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote in a lengthy set that has been used by others as the basis for further illustrated editions.

When the newlyweds Basil and Quiteria entertain Don Quixote and Sancho Panza for three days, they visit the Cave of Montesinos and the Lakes of Ruidera nearby. To mark this well-known episode, Doré painted this non-narrative scene of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza Entertained by Basil and Quiteria in oils in about 1863.

Many of Doré’s easel paintings were independent of his illustrations.

One of the few paintings that I have seen that captures the experience of dense clouds of butterflies is his Summer from about 1860-70. Set in what appears to be an upland or alpine meadow, its butterflies look like large flowers that have taken to the air.

Between Sky and Earth (1862) remains more of a mystery. The viewer is high above the fields outside Doré’s native Strasbourg, where several small groups are flying kites. The kite shown at the upper left has just been penetrated by a flying bird. Another unseen kite, off the top of the canvas, has a traditional tail, at the end of which is tied an anxious frog by a hindleg. However, a stork appears to have designs on seizing the opportunity to eat the frog, and is approaching from behind, its bill wide open and ready for the meal.

This could be an allegory, of course, but is probably a humorous depiction of kite-flying at the time, when people were still puzzled as to what happened to living creatures as they ascended higher in the atmosphere.

By the late 1860s Doré was tackling more heavyweight narratives on very large canvases. The Triumph Of Christianity Over Paganism (c 1868) has become as elaborately symbolic as the paintings of the younger Gustave Moreau. In the upper part of this painting, Christ, bearing his cross, is surrounded by an angelic host flying out, swords drawn and shields borne, to fight the pagan evils on the earth below. Among those are recognisable gods of the Classical pantheon, with Zeus/Jupiter at the centre, holding a thunderbolt in his left hand.

In his humorous Evening in Alsace from 1869, four young men are squeezed into an open window as they try to charm the four young women standing below. Along comes a flock of geese to join in and ruin their chances.