Death, Power and Paranoia: Painting That Shocked German Society Finally Returns to Berlin
A hulking skeleton, wrapped in an ermine-fur cloak and wearing a jagged iron crown, rests one foot on a globe while dramatically knocking over a royal throne with a flick of its ivory wrist. This striking image is Mors Imperator ("Death is the Ruler"), a symbolic painting by German artist Hermione von Preuschen from 1887, intended to express the transience of fame and power. More than a century after its initial rejection sparked a major scandal in Berlin society, the painting is making a triumphant return to the German capital, now displayed at the state-run Alte Nationalgalerie museum from Sunday until mid-November.
A Scandal Born from Misinterpretation
Authorities in 1887 feared that Mors Imperator could be seen as mocking the ageing German Emperor Wilhelm I, who had recently turned 90. This led to its rejection from the Berlin Academy of the Arts' annual exhibition. The scandal highlights how prone single-ruler autocracies can be to paranoia about hidden meanings in art. According to the exhibition's curator, an offence against the monarchy was neither the artist's intention nor how it was perceived by its supposed target.
Born in Darmstadt in 1854, von Preuschen was a poet, world traveller, and painter known for her large-scale, flamboyant historical still life pictures. At the 1896 International Women's Congress in Berlin, she gave an impassioned speech advocating for women's education at artistic academies. "Hermione von Preuschen was bold, not short of self-belief, and an early advocate of female emancipation," said art historian Birgit Verwiebe. "But she was not a political person, and there is no record of her having any anti-monarchical instincts. After all, she came from nobility herself."
Unveiling the True Meaning
In-depth studies of the painting have revealed no signs of hidden intent to identify the skeleton as the German kaiser. The coat of arms on the throne was a creative invention, at best comparable to French royal insignia. The crown set with precious stones falling to the ground has been identified by researchers as being based on a French royal crown at the Louvre. Mors Imperator was originally meant to form the first part of a 10-painting cycle depicting themes of life, death, and love, counterposed with a painting called Regina Vitae (the queen of life), though the second picture was not completed in time.
Devastated by the rejection, the 33-year-old painter wrote directly to Emperor Wilhelm I to explain her intentions. His secretary replied that the monarch had no issue with the subject, leaving it to the judges to decide on aesthetic value. The academy then changed tack, rejecting the picture on grounds of artistic merit, dismissing it as "the inartistic expression of a skewed thought."
From Rejection to Overnight Fame
Von Preuschen escalated the situation by publishing a letter on the affair in a Berlin newspaper and hiring a shop room on Leipziger Strasse to showcase the painting. She hid it behind curtains for a dramatic unveiling. Despite an admission fee equivalent to €8 today, the exhibition became the talk of the town, making the artist famous overnight. Mors Imperator was sold to a Swiss businessman in 1892. After von Preuschen's death in 1918, her remaining works were donated to a small neighbourhood museum in Berlin's Alt-Mariendorf district, with a 2013 retrospective featuring a copy of the scandalous painting.
"Von Preuschen was an intelligent, highly educated but also highly emotional person, who spent a lifetime grappling with the big questions around life, death and fate," said Verwiebe. "Mors Imperator was a picture that came from the heart." The painting's central message—that death overrules earthly authority—proved true; Wilhelm I died shortly after its completion on 9 March 1888, a year known in Germany as the "Year of the Three Emperors" due to subsequent rapid successions.
This exhibition not only celebrates von Preuschen's artistic legacy but also serves as a poignant reminder of how art can be misinterpreted in times of political tension, offering a unique glimpse into 19th-century German society and its fears.
