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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-04-16 23:21:03 -0700 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-04-16 23:21:03 -0700 |
| commit | 198c260fe7de01a81c9934a70cc5fad959243ded (patch) | |
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diff --git a/75887-h/75887-h.htm b/75887-h/75887-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..12d1cb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/75887-h/75887-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2004 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Jacques Louis David and the French Revolution | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 2.5em; + margin-right: 2.5em; +} +.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} + +h1, h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + word-spacing: .2em; +} + +h1 {line-height: 1.4;} + +h2.chap {margin-bottom: 0;} +h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} +h2 .subhead {display: block; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +.x-ebookmaker h1, .x-ebookmaker .chapter, .x-ebookmaker .section {page-break-before: always;} +.x-ebookmaker h1.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker h2.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; 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+ line-height: .7; + font-size: smaller; + text-decoration: none; +} +.fnanchor {font-weight: bold; font-size: .8em;} +.footnote .label {font-size: .8em;} +h2 .fnanchor {font-size: .5em; vertical-align: text-top;} + +.blockquot { + margin: 1.5em 5% 1.5em 5%; + font-size: 95%; +} + +.transnote { + border: .3em double gray; + font-family: sans-serif, serif; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + padding: 1em; +} +.x-ebookmaker .transnote { + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; + margin-left: 2%; + margin-right: 2%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + padding: .5em; +} + +.gesperrt1 {letter-spacing: 0.01em; margin-right: -0.01em;} + +.pagenum br {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + + /* ]]> */ </style> +<style> /* <![CDATA[ */ +@media all and (max-width: 50em) { + .ilb {display: block;} + .ilb figure+figure {margin-left: auto; page-break-before: always;} +} + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75887 ***</div> + +<div class="transnote section"> +<p class="center larger">Transcriber’s Note</p> + +<p>Larger versions of most illustrations may be seen by right-clicking them +and selecting an option to view them separately, or by double-tapping and/or +stretching them.</p> + +<p><a href="#Transcribers_Notes">Additional notes</a> will be found near the end of this ebook.</p> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="section p4"> +<figure id="i_fig0" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 31em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig00.jpg" width="1961" height="2502" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p><span class="smcap">Mlle. Charlotte du Val d’Ognes</span></p> + +<p><i>The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter center"> +<h1> +JACQUES LOUIS DAVID<br> +<span class="small">AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION</span></h1> + +<p class="p2 vspace"><span class="smcap">By</span><br> +W. R. VALENTINER</p> + +<figure id="i_fig00a" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 5em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig00a.jpg" width="329" height="381" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="p2 vspace"><span class="smcap">New York</span><br> +<span class="larger">FREDERIC FAIRCHILD SHERMAN</span><br> +<span class="smaller">MCMXXIX</span> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +</div> + +<div class="section p4 center"> +<p class="smaller"> +Copyright, 1929, by<br> +Frederic F. Sherman +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="section p4 center vspace"> +<p class="larger"> +TO<br> +<span class="smaller">ELEANOR AND EDSEL B. FORD</span> +</p> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +</div> + +<table id="loi"> +<tr> + <td class="tdl norpad" colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Mlle. Charlotte du Val d’Ognes</span> +<span class="fright"><a href="#i_fig0">Frontispiece</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 1</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Madame de Servan (1799)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig1">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 2</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">H. Rigaud: Gentleman Playing a Bagpipe</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig2">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 3</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">F. Boucher: Madame de Pompadour</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig3">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 4</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Minerva’s Conquest of Mars (1771)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig4">4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 5</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blind Belisarius (1781)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig5">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 6</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Oath of the Horatii (1784)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig6">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 7</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Village Outside Rome (1788)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig7">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 8</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">View in Rome (1788)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig8">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 9</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Pen Sketch of Marie Antoinette (1793)</span><br> + <i>Made from the artist’s window as the tumbril halted on the way to the scaffold</i></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig9">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 10</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Study from the Italian Sketchbook (1788)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig10">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 11</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Michel Gérard and his Family (1789)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig11">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 12</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Barêre (1793)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig12">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 13</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Lavoisier and his Wife (1787)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig13">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 14</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mme. de Richmond and her Son</span> (<i>c.</i> 1800)</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig14">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 15</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Le Pelletier (1793)</span> <i>From engraving in the Louvre</i></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig15">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 16</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marat (1793)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig16">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 17</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Danton (1799)</span> <i>From drawing in the Museum, Lille</i></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig17">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 18</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Madame Seriziat and Son (1795)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig18">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 19</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Monsieur Seriziat (1795)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig19">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 20</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marat (1793)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig20">38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 21</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">St. Just (1792)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig21">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 22</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Self Portrait</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig22">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 23</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Woman of the Revolution (1795)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig23">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 24</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Napoleon as First Consul (1797)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig24">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 25</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Vigée LeBrun (1793)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig25">54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 26</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Madame Recamier (1800)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig26">54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fig. 27</span></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Ingres as a Boy (1795)</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#i_fig27">54</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="section ilb"> +<figure id="i_fig2" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 15em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig02.jpg" width="911" height="1245" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 2. H. Rigaud: Gentleman Playing + a Bagpipe</span></p> + <p><i>Museum, Aix</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig1" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 16.75em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig01.jpg" width="1016" height="1245" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 1. L. David: Madame de Servan (1799)</span></p> + <p><i>Private Possession, New York</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig3" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 16em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig03.jpg" width="967" height="1245" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 3. F. Boucher: Madame de Pompadour</span></p> + <p><i>Collection of Maurice de Rothschild, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="JACQUES_LOUIS_DAVID">JACQUES LOUIS DAVID<br> + +<span class="subhead notbold">AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION</span></h2> + +<p class="p0 center large b2">❦</p> +</div> + +<p class="idc"><img src="images/i_fig03a.jpg" width="389" height="392" alt="I"> +<span class="firstword">Is</span> it possible that a period like the French Revolution +and the era of Napoleon’s tyrannous rule should witness +the development of a great art? It would seem that +in the domain of art fresh creative impulses are born +more often in times of unrest and disturbance than in +periods of political security. Those epochs in the history +of art which we regard today as “golden ages”—the age of Pericles; +the Renaissance at about 1500; the Holland of the day of Frans Hals +and Rembrandt—were by no means peaceful years, but periods of +national strife and revolutionary ideas. No happy alliance is possible +between political discipline and art which springs from the free, untrammeled +impulse of the individual. We need only walk through those galleries +at Fontainebleau arranged by Napoleon during the days of his +Empire to recognize the deadening influence exerted by an established +autocracy, and feel blow coldly over us the chilly breath of an academic +and court-inspired art.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the period of the French Revolution, and the days +of Napoleon’s struggle to power, which coincided with the period of +David’s finest achievement, witnessed so powerful an onrush of new +ideas that their influence persists till the present day. Modern art had +its inception in this period, and today, after a lapse of over a hundred +years, is again tending in the direction first indicated by David. It is +herein that the significance of his contribution lies. Helped by the influences +of the revolution, he destroyed the artificial, hyper-refined art +ideals of the eighteenth century, and substituted for them a sterner, simpler, +more healthy and democratic art. That is not to affirm that his art +was greater than the one it superseded. David was not a genius of the +highest order as was Watteau, but to those of us sensitive to the forces +underlying our own times, it says—or should say—more than pre-revolutionary +art.</p> + +<p>We need only to compare a portrait of David’s style like the one of +Madame de Servan (<a href="#i_fig1">Fig. 1</a>) with portraits of his predecessors (<a href="#i_fig2">Figs. 2</a> +and <a href="#i_fig3">3</a>) in order to recognize the difference between the Rococo period +and the new era, introduced by David. This portrait of Madame de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> +Servan, painted about 1800,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> impresses one as a composition of statuesque +simplicity expressing the salient spirit of a period which was seeking +fundamentally new doctrines by which to govern life. The portrait +by Rigaud, the famous court painter of the reign of Louis XIV, painted +in the beginning of the century, and of Boucher’s portrait of Madame de +Pompadour, painted in 1758, do not differ too much from another in +style. In these portraits of the Rococo period the surface is filled with a +restless play of short-curving lines; light and shadow are alternated +perpetually at close intervals; the colors form a pleasing pattern of +small variegated patches, and the costume and accessories almost +eclipse the real motif—that of portraiture. In David’s canvas the figure +emerges clearly from a wide and empty space, and a clear, flowing +line with definite horizontals and verticals has replaced the tortuous +curves. It seems an extraordinary piece of daring for the artist to have +composed in these broad planes with a completely empty background, +when we consider the century-old tradition embodied in the older paintings. +It was the French Revolution, with its rejection of old formulas +which inspired this daring.</p> + +<p>But just as the revolution, from prelude to aftermath, covered a span +of some twenty years, so the artist required a similar period of time to +gradually attain the classic style which we see here stamped with the authority +of his fifty years.</p> + +<p>Jacques Louis David was born in 1748 in the middle of the Louis XV +period, and the school which fathered him was that of Boucher, the frank +exponent of the playful and elegant school of painting fostered by the +artificial social life of Paris. David’s earliest known composition, “Minerva’s +Conquest of Mars,” painted in 1771 in the artist’s twenty-third +year, and now in the Louvre (<a href="#i_fig4">Fig. 4</a>), shows Boucher’s influence clearly. +Here we still have the unquiet baroque line of pre-revolutionary painting—the +picture is full of detail, the draperies worn by the figures flutter +in the breeze like those of Boucher and the cherubs beloved of this +master float in the clouds. The subject, too, is of the mythologic-allegorical +character affected by the painters of the court and the aristocracy. +The Goddess of Wisdom conquers the God of War! What irony +when we remember that twenty years later during the revolution the +painter of this picture was among those who helped let loose on France +a war of twenty years’ duration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span></p> + +<figure id="i_fig4" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 36em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig04.jpg" width="2259" height="1867" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 4. Minerva’s Conquest of Mars (1771)</span></p> + <p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p> + +<p>If we look more closely we can discern an alien spirit behind the apparently +suave portrayal. Despite his subject the young artist’s combative +vein emerges. True, Mars is overthrown, but with what ill grace he +accepts his fate. It might be Danton himself, the great revolutionary, +overthrown by his enemies. A face expressing such fury of despair, so +spasmodically clenched a hand was never portrayed by any of the playful +Rococo painters, and can we not discern something of the energetic +Napoleonic spirit in Minerva’s conquering pose?</p> + +<p>David must have been of a naturally passionate and excitable temperament—possibly +inherited from his father who was killed in a duel +when the boy was eleven years old. As a young artist he applied for the +Prix de Rome, and when he did not at once receive it from the Academy, +was about to take his life in despair and was only persuaded by a friend +to abandon the idea of starving himself to death after three days of fasting +with that purpose in view. Later on, in extenuation of this episode, +he said: “This postponement of my journey to Italy was prejudicial to +my development, as I was four years too late in abandoning the bad +style of the French painters.” Like all reformers he believed that everything +produced by the generation preceding him was bad, although today +all that we can say is that it was different!</p> + +<p>When, in 1775, he did actually set out for Rome, and his friends at +parting advised him to beware the influence of the antique, he replied +proudly, “Antique art cannot seduce me—it lacks fire and passion.” +Before long, however, he was in thrall to the classic art of Italy, and +within a few years his art had undergone a complete transformation, +not only in form but in subject. One of the first pictures that he sent +from Italy in 1781 to be exhibited in Paris was “The Blind Belisarius,” +now in the Museum at Lille (a later version, painted in 1784, in the +Louvre) (<a href="#i_fig5">Fig. 5</a>). Belisarius, once an all-powerful general of the Roman +Emperor Justinian, crouches, old, blind and poor by the side of the +road. The saviour of Rome and conqueror of Carthage has fallen into +disgrace with a master jealous of his fame, and is reduced to beggary. +A rich Roman lady, with tears in her eyes, is placing alms in the old +man’s helmet held out by a youth, while a passing soldier recognizes his +old commander with surprise and pain. Our artist has turned his back +on the cheerful Olympian themes of the allegoric-mythological school, +and with this tragic subject descends to that world of sorrow and misery +in which, but a few years later, he was to see his own nation engulfed. He +is still preoccupied, however, with classic themes seen through the eyes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> +of that antiquity in which he had submerged himself. He has not yet +completely achieved his individual style, and Boucher’s influence is superseded +by that of another French painter who represented the classic +style one hundred years earlier—Poussin.</p> + +<p>This influence lasted throughout his Italian period. Even as late as +1788 we are constantly reminded in his landscape studies of Nicolas +Poussin and Claude Lorrain, as may be exemplified by the two pages +from an hitherto unpublished Italian sketchbook dated 1788, reproducing +views from the surroundings of Rome (<a href="#i_fig7">Figs. 7</a> and <a href="#i_fig8">8</a>).<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a></p> + +<figure id="i_fig5" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 26em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig05.jpg" width="1639" height="1454" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 5. The Blind Belisarius (1781)</span></p> + <p><i>Museum, Lille</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig6" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 26em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig06.jpg" width="1629" height="1257" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 6. The Oath of the Horatii (1784)</span></p> + <p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Just as the poets and orators of the revolution harked back to the +classic trend of the seventeenth century—as Voltaire and even Robespierre +evoked Racine and Corneille—David, too, now followed a trend +of French art which has persisted from medieval times to the present +day, that line of classic, simple, antiquely conceived, clearly constructed +creations from which the highly developed church sculptures of +the middle ages, the Renaissance paintings of the period of Francis I, +and the art of Claude Lorrain and Poussin derive. Simplicity and +straight lines replaced the restless, complicated curve in the composition +of the Belisarius. It is not alone in the architecture, strongly influenced +by the antique, that the horizontal and vertical line multiplied itself, the +painter, too, sought to lend strength and rhythm to his composition by +a parallelism in the gestures of his figures. The arms of Belisarius and +the boy follow the same line, as do their feet, and the soldier’s hands repeat +the parallel gesture.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig7" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 31em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig07.jpg" width="1982" height="1316" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 7. Village Outside Rome</span></p> + <p>From the Italian sketchbook (1788)</p> + <p><i>Private possession, Detroit</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig8" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 31em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig08.jpg" width="1984" height="1314" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 8. View in Rome</span></p> + <p>From the Italian sketchbook (1788)</p> + <p><i>Private possession, Detroit</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>David achieved this linear coördination between figures and architecture +with even greater success in his next important work, “The Oath of +the Horatii,” painted in 1783 and now in the Louvre (<a href="#i_fig6">Fig. 6</a>). The figures, +divided into three groups, are posed in masterly fashion against the +three arches of the architectural background—three men on the left, +three female figures on the right, and the old man, holding out the three +swords in the centre. The movement swings from group to group with +the same rhythm that governs the curves of the arches, and is strongly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> +emphasized by the parallel lines of limbs and draperies. We are told +that the outstretched foot of the foremost youth was drawn and redrawn +by David many times. It is now in exactly the right stance to determine +the general linear movement and is at the same time a masterpiece of +naturalistic drawing. The pose of this youth’s spear has been criticised +as practically impossible, but it requires precisely this continuous line to +strengthen the rhythm of the outstretched legs.</p> + +<p>The motif is again drawn from Roman history, this time via a drama +by Corneille with which David was familiar. The three sons of the old +Horace, who occupies the centre of the canvas, were chosen by the +Romans to meet the Albans in single combat, the latter being also represented +by three brothers, the Curiatii. It had been agreed that this +combat should decide which race would have dominion over the other. +The victory fell to the Horatii, the representatives of Rome. Two of the +brothers fell in combat with the Curiatii, but the third triumphed +through a ruse—turning apparently in flight and killing his three opponents +one after another as they pursued him.</p> + +<p>The trumpet call to freedom implicit in this composition must have +rung in the ears of the youthful French patriots who crowded to see it, +for it appeared at a moment when the soul of young France had been +stirred by the American war of independence. It was painted in the year +1783 when Benjamin Franklin signed in Paris that treaty with England +in which, for the first time, the independence of the American Union was +recognized. Beyond the Atlantic there had come into existence a republic +comparable to the Roman republic, an anti-monarchical conception +whose ideals were sympathetic to the progressive thinkers of France, +though France was, at the same time, the seat of Europe’s oldest and +most absolute monarchy. How did this message of freedom from across +the ocean affect the youth of France? Our artist’s ear was sensitively +attuned to the ferment of radical thought. While the painters of the +older school, Boucher and Fragonard, still painted their playful compositions +and tried to dissemble the tragic reality, the dull rumble of the +coming earthquake sounded its note in David’s paintings. His themes +became ever more gruesome and inflammatory. A painting in Marseilles +depicts St. Roche pleading with the Madonna to succor the sick, +and the foreground is filled with dead, plague-stricken bodies. Another +in Valence represents the Death of Ugolino with his Sons—that horrible +scene from Dante’s <i lang="it">Divina Commedia</i> in which the Italian general<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> +and his five sons die of hunger in a dungeon into which they have been +thrown by his political enemies.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig9" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 16em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig09.jpg" width="997" height="1423" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 9. Pen Sketch of Marie Antoinette</span></p> + <p>Made from the artist’s window as the tumbril halted + on the way to the scaffold (1793)</p> + <p><i>Collection of Edmond de Rothschild, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig10" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 26em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig10.jpg" width="1632" height="960" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 10. Study from the Italian Sketchbook (1788)</span></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“The Death of Socrates,”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> painted in 1787, now in private possession +in Paris, enhanced David’s rapidly growing celebrity not only in France, +but abroad. No less a personage than Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was then +in Paris, said that he had studied the picture daily for a week, and with +every inspection found it more perfect. It was, he said, “the greatest +achievement since Raffael’s frescoes in the Vatican, and would have done +honor to the Athenians of the Periclean age.” Today, of course, this estimate +seems an exaggeration to us. The composition is assuredly well +planned, and admirable in many of its aspects: the youth, who with +averted face hands the poisoned cup to Socrates, and the other youth in +the background beating his hands against the arch of the doorway. Some +of the gestures seem theatrical, however, and individual figures, such +as the athletic and uninspired Socrates, look as though they had been +derived from a relief. The composition is too studied; it lacks feeling. +Why is it that David’s great historical compositions are apt to leave us +cold, especially those produced during a period of great spiritual and +political turmoil in which his own sympathies were greatly involved? +His part in the revolution amply proves the strength of the passions +which might have found an outlet in his art. Why was he not the realist +to dramatize those struggles like Delacroix who lived fifty years later, +when revolution and world-war were over, yet who painted battles of all +kinds with the most terrific naturalism. The answer lies in this very +fact: Delacroix never witnessed the battle scenes he reproduced; they +are the fruit of his imagination. It is impossible for a significant realistic +art to develop during war and revolution. What one experiences at such +times is so horrible that the imagination is stifled rather than stimulated. +Only insensitive and coarse natures are capable of painting +scenes of horror through which they have lived. When, and as now in +our days, reality weighs all too heavily upon us, art, in self defense, becomes +abstract and withdraws itself from reality. It is for this reason +that the art of the revolution, David’s art, was stylized and cool: the +artist perforce took refuge from the horrors of reality in the kingdom of +his imagination. His art, like the poetry and oratory of the day, was +idealistic in trend. When Robespierre delivered those terrible speeches +that sent so many human beings to the guillotine, he spoke slowly, +rhythmically, in artfully rounded phrases, as though he were holding an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> +academic discussion. That the great revolutionaries, among whom we +must number David, thought idealistically rather than realistically, is +proved conclusively by their manner of expressing themselves. Like all +fanatics they lived in a world of dreams and believed their ideas—which +seemed to them so splendid—to be either already realized or on the +verge of realization. They believed only one last great effort to be necessary, +to achieve—though at the cost of human lives—the freedom +of humanity as a whole. This alone can explain why revolutionaries +who pursued their ends through rivers of blood, seem at times inspired +with a noble and unexpected humanitarianism; why they were nearly +all tender and devoted men in their private family life. Danton idolized +his wife and children, the letters of Camille Desmoulins to his bride are +beautiful and touching, and Robespierre, the solitary, the incorruptible, +whose private life was beyond criticism, was a great lover of nature, who +brought, we are told, bunches of wild flowers home with him from his +long walks.</p> + +<p>With the portrayal of Brutus (now in the Louvre), who, because of +his profound respect for justice permitted the execution of his sons, we +find ourselves on the threshold of the revolution. Brutus, with stern, +dark countenance, is seated before the Goddess of Justice, while behind +him the bodies of his sons are borne across the scene and the grieving +mother and sisters cling together in the pillared hall of their dwelling.</p> + +<p>While today we feel the construction of this picture to be far too +studied, and are inclined to dub it academic, David’s intention was +directed precisely against the then accepted traditional formulas. Whoever +dreamed, said contemporary criticism, of placing the principal +figure in the shadow or planning a composition without regard to the +triangular construction? David left the centre of the canvas purposely +free. Our eyes fall first on a column, a chair, a still life arrangement +on a table, frankly at the expense of the composition’s unity. The incidentals +were drawn with extraordinary care. In order to assure the +accuracy of the classic furnishings, David had the cabinet maker, Jacob, +make the pieces for him after his own designs. The painting created +such an extraordinary sensation that not only did it give the first impetus +to the Parisian vogue for classic furniture, but women’s fashions +were definitely influenced by the loosely coifed hair and long flowing +garments of the feminine figures. Not the least significant part of +David’s contribution to art is the influence he exerted on the decorative +arts and on fashion. It is very rare that the influence of a single artist’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> +work on a bygone style can be so clearly measured as in the case of +David, from whose art the decorative art of the Empire period derived.</p> + +<p>Only an artist who is much in the public eye can sway styles, and +David became one of the heroes of the day when this composition was exhibited +in the Salon of 1789—the year whose autumn was to see the +outbreak of the revolution. Perhaps no other picture has ever played so +great a rôle in the political and social life of a nation as this work, which +is by no means its author’s finest production, much less among the +finest of art history. All of which goes to prove how unreliable popular +taste is when it comes to a question of contemporary art.</p> + +<p>It was of course the subject which evoked such enormous acclaim, for +the very name of Brutus was one to conjure with where the radical +youth of Paris was concerned. Wherever speeches on the new political +conceptions were made there was mention of the name of Rome’s deliverer +from the yoke of Caesar, and from Mirabeau to Danton the people +loved to connect the name of Brutus with their heroes. Even the opponents +of the revolution believed themselves to be inspired by him. +When Charlotte Corday murdered David’s friend Marat, she declared +in prison that she hoped to meet Brutus in Elysium. This veneration +for antiquity, which was characteristic of the revolutionary period, was +greatly fostered by David’s classical compositions.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig11" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 33em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig11.jpg" width="2079" height="2486" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 11. Michel Gérard and his Family (1789)</span></p> + <p><i>Museum, Le Mans</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The narrative of the German writer Halem,<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> who visited Paris the first +year of the revolution, and attended some theatrical presentations, tells +us vividly how familiar the populace was with David’s painting. He attended +a performance of the “Brutus” of Voltaire, at the National +Theater, and relates that although he got to the Box Office at five o’clock +in the afternoon, he had the utmost difficulty in obtaining a seat. He +writes, “Mirabeau stood near me at the ticket office and because of his +celebrity was given a place in the fourth balcony. I followed him through +the crowd as best I could and managed to get a chair in a rented loge. +Mirabeau’s entrance was received with thunderous applause and cries +of ‘To the gallery, Mirabeau.’ As he did not respond a deputation +waited on him, the spokesman saying, ‘The French nation demands its +Brutus.’ He had to give in, and was borne away to be received in the +gallery with rapturous applause. What a triumph when later Valerius’ +words to Brutus,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="in0">‘On you alone all eyes here are turned,<br> +‘You who broke our chains and gave us the gift of freedom,’</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> + +<p class="in0">were addressed pointedly to him. At the end of the play I was amazed +to see David’s painting of Brutus reproduced on the stage. In speaking +Brutus’ last words with which the play closes:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="in0">‘Rome now is free. That is enough.<br> +The gods be thanked,’</p> +</div> + +<p class="in0">Vanhove, the leading actor, assumed the pose of David’s Brutus, and the +bodies of his sons were borne across the back of the stage. Every Parisian +knows David’s picture. Everyone instantly recognized the intention of +publicly honoring the artist through this presentation, and general applause +heightened the celebration.” So reads the narrative.</p> + +<p>What had happened? Why this enthusiasm of crowd and intellectuals +for a new day? Why these celebrations within celebrations? Even +today, almost one hundred and fifty years later, the words “French Revolution” +rouse our blood, literature is divided into opposing camps by +which either the revolution or the monarchy is condemned, and there +are many who hold in abhorrence the events of those days and the theories +that brought them into being and believe that the awful bath of +blood might have been avoided—as though revolutions were the work +of men and not natural occurrences like tidal waves that the individual +can neither bring into being nor arrest in their course. In the history of +the human race we see again and again how one social stratum after +another climbs up, pushing aside the one that preceded it. When, as in +France, a monarchy and aristocracy has been in power long enough to +weaken in its rule because security and luxury have undermined its morale +and its strength, another stratum, scenting this weakness, seeks to +wrest to itself this power which its fresh and undrained life force fits it +more ably to use. In France this social stratum was the Bourgeoisie, the +Third Estate, which from the beginning of the new era—the sixteenth +century—had grown strong commercially and illustrious in art and +literature, but had not yet achieved any political rights.</p> + +<p>The nobility, however, preferred to die rather than allow the power +which they had held for hundreds of years to pass from their hands—quite +naturally, for the function of government is their only element. So +came the unequal battle in which from the beginning the victory was to +the young and powerful stratum. To the ruling class form alone was +left, while the class which aspired to rule possessed passion. Like all +young, unpractised and fanatical fighters, their representatives shot far +beyond their goal, and because, though victors, they were still unpractised +in the use of power, they abused it, destroyed senselessly whatever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> +still lived of the old régime, and then turned upon each other until the +strongest pushed the others aside and became supreme. These strongest +among the strong were successively the leaders of the Constituent +and Legislative Assemblies: first Mirabeau, later the so-called Terrorists, +among them Danton, Robespierre and Marat, and finally Napoleon.</p> + +<p>The democratic idea was victorious in the French Revolution despite +Napoleon, who, at first, embodied this idea in himself, and whose Empire +was only the short reaction which follows all new experiments. Its +consequences have persisted to our own day, when as the revolution’s +final result one monarchy after another in the European scene has gone +into eclipse.</p> + +<p>If we would be just we must admit that during the revolution there +were heroes on both sides, among the monarchists as well as the revolutionaries. +Among the monarchists—to name a few of the more notable—were +the King, the Queen and Charlotte Corday. On the revolutionary +side we can muster practically all of the leaders, who sooner +or later almost all perished on the scaffold for their principles, and +we can familiarize ourselves with these men through David’s portraits.</p> + +<p>The outward events of the beginning of the revolution are well +known. The financial difficulties of the Government compelled the King +and his Advisors to convene the States General, which had not met for +generations. The elections of the deputies had already roused popular +passion, and when the Government, after the Assembly had convened, +endeavored to establish the old order in which all the power was vested +in the upper classes and the Third Estate had none, revolt broke loose. +Under Mirabeau’s leadership the representatives of the Third Estate +left the Assembly, and met, for lack of other quarters, in the Jeu de +Paume (the Tennis Court), where they took oath not to dissolve until +they had established a new constitution. This “Oath of the Tennis +Court” was immortalized by David in a famous composition of which +only sketches by David and paintings after his cartoon by other artists +have been preserved.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a></p> + +<figure id="i_fig12" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 32em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig12.jpg" width="1989" height="2679" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 12. Portrait of Barère (1793)</span></p> + <p><i>Palais, Versailles</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>It was a year later, when the Revolutionary Assembly had established +its power, that it recalled that great day of the beginning of the revolution +and commissioned David to paint the picture. It is again the German +poet Halem, who describes the circumstances for us, in a letter +written by him after a visit to the Jacobin Club. He writes: “After continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> +speechifying, Dubois de Crancé, a member of the National Assembly, +rose and recalled to the memory of those present that day on +June 20th of the preceding year, when six hundred harried and unarmed +Deputies, surrounded, as he put it, ‘by the Oriental pomp and the bayonets +of despotism,’ laid the cornerstone of French freedom by the well-known +oath of the tennis court at Versailles. Never could he recall +this event, said he, without his heart beating faster, without a glow of +patriotic feeling. He proposed the formulation of an address to the assembly +in which they should be asked to sanction (1.) That the tennis +court, grave of despotism and cradle of freedom, be declared a national +monument, closed, and dedicated to stillness.... (2.) That the wonderful +moment of this first oath be perpetuated by a painting 120′ high and 30′ +wide, painted by the greatest of the French masters, and hung in the +National Convention. ‘I say,’ he continued, ‘by the greatest of the masters, +and to whom else could I refer than to him who so nobly depicted +Brutus and the Oath of the Horatii?’ The vaulted hall rang with loud +cries of assent. David the painter was present. Everyone turned toward +him, and pale with enthusiasm the young man stepped to the orator’s +platform and thanked the Assembly in trembling tones for its trust, +which he hoped from his heart to adequately repay, adding touchingly, +‘Sleep will not visit me for many a night.’</p> + +<p>“Then ensued a noble rivalry. Abbé Dillon arose first to vindicate his +right to appear in the picture among those taking the oath. He was one +of the few clerics who had belonged to the National Assembly before the +day of the Oath. At that moment he had been obliged to take charge of +the unimportant clerical archives, and consequently had not been present. +He called the members present to witness and his claim was admitted. +Then arose the Comte de Noailles to voice his approval of commemorating +the Oath of those brave citizens. ‘But, alas,’ said he, ‘the +former aristocracy sees itself excluded and how many of us echoed that +oath in our hearts. If only the painter could depict us standing in the +distance with yearning hearts and the burning wish that we might be +among the celebrants of the Oath.’ A third stood up and expressed the +wish that the suppliants might be included in the picture. A fourth demanded +that those wretches who had been present at the Oath, but who +had later fallen for the good cause be not included. A fifth got up and +related a story of Bailly who after fruitless efforts to calm the mob +around the tennis court, stepped out and commanded silence <em>in the +name of the National Assembly</em>. This decision, this command, the name<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> +of the National Assembly then spoken openly to the people for the first +time, had a great effect, had quieted the mob and perhaps determined +its future mood. The orator asked the painter if he could make use of +this incident in his composition. The painter stepped once more to the +platform and thanked them all for their remarks, begging them to remember, +however, that the picture must have both unity and historical +accuracy. He was generally applauded. Mirabeau then took the floor +and with marvellous adroitness conceded full despotic power to genius +such as that of the artist David, and proposed that Dubois de Crancé +prepare a written petition for the National Assembly. Dubois made the +excuse that he was about to leave for the country and cries of ‘Mirabeau! +Mirabeau!’ resounded. Mirabeau understood the call and accepted +the formulation of the address. He read it at one of the next sittings +and the master’s hand was recognized.” So much for the account of the +eyewitness.</p> + +<p>David exhibited the cartoon for “The Oath of the Tennis Court” in +the Salon of 1791 and on Barère’s proposal the National Assembly +voted that the painting be carried out at the cost of the State and be hung +in the National Convention as an incentive to zeal. In the Catalogue of +the Exhibition David had stated that it was not his intention to make +likenesses of the members of the National Assembly. How easily, +nevertheless, the Parisian public recognized the various personalities +and what a sensation the composition made is proved by the fact that +Barère practically became a personage through the fact that David portrayed +him writing, in the left foreground, near the principal group—placing +on paper for posterity the tale of the great event. Barère’s not +too inspired journal, <i lang="fr">Point du Jour</i>, became from that moment a much +sought-after sheet.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig13" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig13.jpg" width="1433" height="1806" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 13. Lavoisier and his Wife (1787)</span></p> + <p><i>Private Collection, New York</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig14" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig14.jpg" width="1421" height="1802" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 14. Mme. de Richmond and her Son</span> (<i>c.</i> 1800)</p> + <p><i>Collection of Mr. Edward J. Berwind, New York</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Despite the many characteristic types, David’s composition “The +Oath of the Tennis Court” is essentially in the monumental style in +which quite justly details are subordinated to the spirit of the whole. +The thronging crowd stands out against the bare walls of the Tennis +Court, in a clearly defined linear pattern, built up by the myriad outstretched +hands. The figures are all filled with a mighty dramatic force. +Bailly, the president, in the centre, stands like a statue of bronze. For +the first time David shook himself free of historical subjects, depicted a +contemporary event and proved himself well able to adapt his idealistic +style to such a theme. In this simplified idiom he attained the expression +of a dignified, rhetorical passion which he was unable to encompass to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> +like degree in his historical subjects, and the lofty idealism of the composition +speaks well for the sincerity and intensity of his convictions.</p> + +<div class="ilb"> +<figure id="i_fig16" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 18em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig16.jpg" width="1133" height="1407" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 16. Marat</span></p> + <p>(Drawing)</p> + <p>Study for the painting in Brussels</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig17" class="figcenter p4" style="max-width: 10em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig17.jpg" width="611" height="721" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 17. Danton</span></p> + <p>(From drawing in the Museum, Lille)</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig15" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 17em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig15.jpg" width="1076" height="1388" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 15. Le Pelletier</span></p> + <p>(From the engraving in the Louvre)</p></figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + +<p>The radical Jacobin Club, whose members had pledged themselves so +enthusiastically to the promotion of his art, became thereafter one of his +favorite haunts. Because, as an artist, he was not particularly judicious +politically he allowed himself to be influenced by the extremists whose +biting logic is often more compelling to temperamental laymen than are +more moderate councils. David had, as his whole career clearly proves, +a rarely fine instinct for the elementary forces in political and social +life, and those to whom he now turned, the representatives of the +“Mountain”—to whom Marat, Danton and Robespierre belonged—were +as a matter of fact the strongest personalities on whom leadership +was soon to devolve. Thanks to them he was elected to the National +Assembly in 1792. He never assumed any leading part, for a defect in +his speech interfered with his public speaking, but he often gave vent to +his enthusiasm only by loud cries of assent.</p> + +<p>For the rest his contribution lay in the field of art. He busied himself +with cartoons for monumental paintings, with monuments, with arranging +national festivals, sketching classical costumes for all the functionaries, +and in organizing the artist world, always, we must admit, from +an idealistic standpoint. He has been much criticised for the fact that he +concurred in the King’s execution, and later in Danton’s. In the condemnation +of the King, however, he followed his party; in Danton’s +case his reasons were personal.</p> + +<p>The principal oration against the King at his trial in 1793 was made +by Barère, the lawyer, who advocated David’s composition to the National +Assembly, and whom David later immortalized as historiographer +in his work. David painted a masterly portrait of him delivering +the Impeachment of Louis XVI (<a href="#i_fig12">Fig. 12</a>). In the composition which +lies before him on the parapet is written the beginning of the famous +speech which ends with the words, “The Tree of Liberty could not grow +were it not watered with the blood of Kings.” Barère, good-looking and +a clever orator, was not among the nobler of the revolutionaries. He belongs +to that very small group of revolutionary leaders who did not +themselves become sacrifices, but outlived the revolution in all its phases +and held public office even in the times of reaction under Napoleon and +the Bourbons. The Abbe Sieyès was another of this group. He was from +the very first a representative of the Third Estate and achieved some +reputation under Napoleon. David, too, whose art safeguarded him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> +among the dangers of the revolution, belongs to them. Both Sieyès, +whose clerical frock was his protection, and David were helped by the +fact that they knew how to stand aloof. Barère, however, was the type +of politician who trims his sails to meet the wind and uses his sagacity +to judge not where right but where might is and then diplomatically +allies himself to it in order to always be in the vanguard of events. His +accusations against the King only expressed the general feeling of the +people whom he strove to please.</p> + +<p>True, this general sentiment would not have been possible had not +the monarchy for years been its own worst enemy and made of itself a +laughing stock. There is, indeed, no excuse for political murder. The +King merited the guillotine as little as did thousands of others on both +sides who were sacrificed to it on account of their political opinions. +That Louis XVI was arraigned before a tribunal of his people, however, +was in part at least the fault of the monarchy itself. This particular +King possessed very few of those qualities which a nation expects from +its sovereign. It is one of Fate’s most remarkable ironies that Louis XVI +had every desire to be democratic—but his manner of so being was unfortunate +to a degree. The story runs that as nineteen year old Dauphin +he used to pursue the servants laden with soiled laundry in order to tickle +them under the arms, and as King the blacksmith’s hammer and anvil +were his favorite diversions. The young and charming Marie Antoinette +found it hard to accustom herself to a clumsy husband with soiled hands +who emerged red-faced from his smithy and approached her affectionately. +It happened that did the King espy from a window masons working +in the courtyard below he would run down with rolled-up sleeves to +assist them. There is a certain kind of good nature that is inappropriate +to Princes. His portraits show him as having a clumsy, phlegmatic figure +and plain, not too intelligent features. A typical representative of a +doomed caste, he lacked any energy to stem misfortune, any originality +or appreciation of the new conceptions of the day. It seems as though a +curse rests on people of this type, that everything they do tends only to +make their situation worse, as though they help to bring about their own +destruction. What weakness when in the hour of the greatest danger +Louis writes to his brother, the Comte d’Artois: “I have revoked the +orders that I gave. My troops will abandon Paris, and I will use more +gentle means. Don’t speak to me of a Coup d’État, a display of force. I +feel it is wiser to wait for the storm to abate, and to expect everything +from time, from the awakening of right-thinking people and the love<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> +of the French nation for their King.” Ideas of this kind never arrested +a revolution! It was fortunate for him that his phlegmatic temperament +could find refuge in prayer. This quality helped him to meet +death with resolution but was of small service to the caste he represented. +The times were too violent for Christian temperaments such as +the King’s. Once when David received a commission for a portrayal of +Christ, and his patron remarked subsequently that the figure looked +more like Cato, David’s reply was: “The times are not favorable for +Christendom.”</p> + +<figure id="i_fig18" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig18.jpg" width="1412" height="1852" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 18. Madame Seriziat and Son (1795)</span></p> + +<p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig19" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig19.jpg" width="1437" height="1850" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 19. Monsieur Seriziat (1795)</span></p> + <p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The King, however, continued to rely on the love of the French for +their monarch. As a matter of fact this sentiment was centuries old and +had persisted until the early years of his reign, but the aristocracy had +helped by derision and calumny to destroy all veneration for the monarchy, +poets and writers sowed doubts as to the efficacy of this form of +government, and the nation began to lose its age-old respect as the +King’s weaknesses became apparent. It is common prejudice that +Princes on account of their eminent position should be different and +more distinguished than the common run of mortals, although history +proves that notable personalities are as rare on the throne as in other +walks of life. If a ruler is gifted, he can allow himself to come into contact +with his people; if, as in most cases, he is not, he is better advised to +allow himself to be admired from afar. Louis XVI, however, did just +the opposite. We know what undignified scenes took place when the mob +on several occasions penetrated the palace. An innkeeper stepped up to +the King and spoke to him saying, after the King’s reply, “You did well +to give me a civil answer, otherwise I’d have made you headwaiter in my +inn tomorrow.” If the King had given this rascal the blow in the face he +deserved, he might have been spared his long martyrdom with the scaffold +at the end. Instead, however, he went up to another ruffian who had +thrust a red cap on his head, and who seemed to be stumbling drunkenly +against a door and helped him to open it. Even on the scaffold he wanted +to help the executioner cut off his hair. The cool fashion in which he +went to meet his doom, at least, merits our admiration. An American +historian has fittingly remarked: “The unruffled dignity with which he +met death was the finest act of his reign.”</p> + +<p>Posterity has devoted much sympathy to Marie Antoinette whose +portraits by Vigée LeBrun (<a href="#i_fig25">Fig. 25</a>) and other court painters are familiar +to all art lovers. Although she, too, was by no means an outstanding +ruler her life is particularly rich in human and touching incidents. Her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> +very weaknesses are those which arouse one’s sympathy. Who could +blame the young Princess, brought to Paris from Vienna at the age of +fifteen, that she remained in tutelage to her mother and sought her advice? +But this very relationship which resulted when misfortune overtook +her, in an appeal for help to the foreign courts, brought about her +downfall. Who can fail to understand that the lovely and vivacious Marie +Antoinette, surrounded by the pleasure-loving society of Paris, and tied +to a dull husband to whom, nevertheless, she remained faithful, should +have looked about her for congenial friends. It was this, however, that +gave rise in court circles to those calumnies which so injured her reputation +among her subjects and finally ruined her—calumnies founded +only on gossip, not on facts. Who could blame her for finding burdensome +the exaggerated etiquette of the French court, the public dinner of +the King and Queen once a week, the ridiculous ceremonies of the lever, +the crowd which attended even the birth of her children. And why +should this inexperienced Queen have been held answerable for extravagant +expenditures for gowns and festivities when her predecessors had +spent just as much and the money was always given with the King’s +approval? Her only faults were inexperience and lack of caution. Unfortunately, +when her husband proved himself unfit, she essayed, to her +undoing, to take the political reins in her own hands. In her endeavour +to save herself and her family she allowed her feminine sympathies and +antipathies to influence her politically and so made matters worse. The +price she paid for her mistakes was terrific. In all the history of royalty +there is hardly a more terrible plunge from the pinnacle of power and +wealth to the depths of misery.</p> + +<p>Art and culture never bloomed more luxuriantly in France than in +the early years of Marie Antoinette’s reign.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> The most exquisite taste +pervaded the mode and was displayed at court functions; the furniture, +ornaments, bronzes and porcelains designed for Marie Antoinette are +among the most delightful productions of French decorative art; the +great French painters of the Rococo period—Boucher, Fragonard and +Hubert Robert—were still alive, as well as the sculptors Houdon, Falconet +and Clodion. It was natural that the young Queen should have +preferred this art to David’s with its cold, stern quality and sombre, +tragic motifs; that she ignored revolutionary literature, preferring to +amuse herself with charming Italian operas or the music of Gluck which +she introduced to France.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span></p> + +<p>That all this splendour collapsed suddenly with the revolution was +not the most serious thing that faced the Queen—misfortune pursued +her into her most intimate family life. She, who loved her children above +all else and who, when the gathering disasters grew closer and closer to +her husband, saw the collapse of one pillar after another of her very existence. +Her youngest child died in his eleventh month. The Dauphin, +a gifted and charming lad of seven, sickened. How could the mother +who lay sobbing across the death-bed of her son at Meudon worry over +the gathering storms in Paris through which pealed the knell announcing +the Dauphin’s death? Then came the days when the mob hung +threateningly around the palace and forced her to leave Versailles +for Paris in its triumphant train. When the populace stormed the +Tuilleries and she feared for the fate of her other children how deeply +offended was the dignity which she possessed in the same measure that +the King lacked it. When the Royal family were brought back from +their unlucky flight to Varennes amid the abuse and insults of the mob, +the King accepted it all with his usual calm and even tried to converse +with his followers. The Queen, on the contrary, suffered so horribly +under the humiliation that her hair turned white over night. This, however, +was but the beginning. Then came the parting with the King who +was led to the scaffold (January 21, 1793); there was the even more +painful parting with her children, and the torture of almost a year in +prison without news of them, within sight of the bloody heads which, +like that of her friend the Princesse de Lamballe, were carried past her +window on pikes. When she was haled before the Tribunal, where she +made answer calmly to all accusations, she was but a shadow of herself.</p> + +<p>David made a drawing of her on her way to the scaffold (October 16, +1793)—a horrifying sketch (<a href="#i_fig9">Fig. 9</a>). Does there perhaps speak from it +the injured vanity of an artist whose work had once been ignored by this +former Queen? What a study in contrasts! This was she who only a few +years previously had been the lovely model for the most charming portrait +of the court painters.</p> + +<p>Marie Antoinette was executed during the “reign of terror,” so-called, +the sanguinary and precarious years 1793–94. Following the results +of the revolution and its excesses all Europe had combined against +France, and only the utmost concentration of internal forces made +victory against such a coalition possible. The National Convention +placed the direction of affairs in the hands of a committee of nine, +among whom were Danton, Robespierre, Marat and St. Just, and this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> +Committee saved France. They formed and sent into the field the volunteer +armies which, at first unorganized, gradually obtained ascendancy +over the experienced coalition troops and finally drove them from the +field. Everything that might work injury to the troops at the front was +ruthlessly put aside. Hundreds of aristocrats followed the King and +Queen to the scaffold. Murder was the order of the day and thinned out +not only the friends of the old régime, but also the ranks of the revolutionaries +themselves. The earliest of these to fall in connection with the +King’s execution was Le Pelletier, formerly the Comte de St. Fargeau, +a member of the Convention, who was murdered by a member of the +King’s body-guard on the eve of the execution of the King, on January +20, 1793, because he had voted for the King’s death. Busts of Le Pelletier +and Brutus were placed in the Palace of Justice, and David quickly +completed a fine painting of the victim which he offered to the Convention +in the following terms: “Fellow Citizens, each one of us is responsible +to the Fatherland for those gifts which nature has bestowed on us; +diverse though their expression may be, the goal is the same for us all. +Every true patriot should use every means to inspire his fellow citizens +and bring before them at all times the great examples of heroism and +virtue. I am moved by these thoughts in offering to the National Convention +the painting of Michel Le Pelletier who was murdered in cowardly +fashion because he voted for a tyrant’s death.”</p> + +<p>Unfortunately this painting has been lost. Le Pelletier’s descendants, +into whose possession it passed, were Royalists, and hid the painting, destroying +the plates and all the engravings which had been made from it. +The reproduction (<a href="#i_fig15">Fig. 15</a>) was made from the only existing impression +in the Cabinet of Engravings in the Louvre. The composition is conceived +in the grand and austere manner which characterized David’s +work in these days of terror and fanatically exaggerated idealism.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig20" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 31em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig20.jpg" width="1956" height="2591" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 20. Marat (1793)</span></p> + <p><i>Museum, Brussels</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Before six months were up another assassination, this time of one +of the leaders of the revolution—Marat—roused the members of the +Convention and the populace to the utmost. Hardly had the news +spread abroad before one of the members of the Convention arose crying: +“Where art thou, David? You made a portrait of Le Pelletier for +posterity when he died for his country, now the occasion has arisen for +another work.” “This too I will do,” David answered, and produced one +of his most moving compositions (<a href="#i_fig16">Figs. 16</a> and <a href="#i_fig20">20</a>). It is planned with +great power and simplicity, and filled with deep and tragic feeling, for +Marat was his friend. Nothing has aroused more astonishment than this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> +friendship of David’s for Marat who has been regarded as the bloodthirsty +instigator of the horrors and deviltries of the revolution. If we +look into the matter more closely, however, we must recognize in Marat +qualities which explain the esteem of men like David. He had remarkable +philosophic and scientific gifts. While his enemies described him as +a quack doctor, or, as Carlisle erroneously states, a veterinary, as a matter +of fact his professional contributions as an oculist were so remarkable +that some of his writings have been reprinted even of late years. +Before the revolution he was the most celebrated oculist of the aristocracy, +and the Comte d’Artois, later Charles X, had appointed him as his +personal physician at a salary of two thousand pounds. His philosophical +writings, such as the three volume <cite>Essays on Man</cite> which appeared in +English and French, achieved a reputation for him abroad. Although he +did not become a member of the French Academy, on account of his disagreement +with Voltaire and his attack on Newton, no less a person than +Goethe expressed himself concerning this injustice. Benjamin Franklin, +too, was among those who visited Marat and were interested in his experiments +in physics.</p> + +<p>On the outbreak of the revolution he abandoned his career as doctor +and scholar to develop an astonishing public zeal founded on his passion +for the new ideas. He influenced the development of the new forms of +government in no small measure, advised against copying the English +constitution with which he had familiarized himself during a stay in +England, and opposed all who attempted to assume Dictatorship, even +Mirabeau, then Lafayette and later General Dumouriez, whose treason +he foresaw before Dumouriez went over to the Austrians and the Girondists. +He voted for the condemnation of the King, whom he accused +of treason to his country, but advised against his condemnation for +events which happened prior to the revolution. That he was not so +bloodthirsty as his opponents would have us believe is proved by his insistence +that Malesherbes, the king’s advisor, should not be condemned +with him as he was “a wise and venerable old man.”</p> + +<p>How many of the wild imprecations which were published against his +enemies, and particularly against the nobility in his journal <cite lang="fr">L’Ami du +Peuple</cite> may be laid at his door, is a question. This paper was suppressed +at various times, and while Marat was in hiding it appeared with distorted +versions of his opinions given out by his enemies or supposed +friends, in the endeavour to bring discredit on him. The really established +facts concerning him place him in no unfavorable light. He opposed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> +the Girondists because he opposed a foreign war, from which he +felt not only the Monarchists but those Radicals who worked in the dark +like the Girondists hoped to draw advantage, and which he felt might +result in the establishment of a military dictatorship. He foresaw the +September murders, and demanded the establishment of a tribunal for +the prisoners. This was not done, and the murders consequently took +place.</p> + +<p>True his impassioned pen evoked death and destruction upon his opponents, +but he was persecuted all his life and his enemies retaliated in +kind. More than once he fled from death, hiding for weeks at a time in +cellars and in sewers and contracting from lack of nourishment all sorts +of bodily ills which his iron energy enabled him to disregard. Ill, unable +to attend the Convention, although working all day long, he sought relief +in hot baths where he wrote by placing a board across the bath for his +books and papers. With, in any case, but a short time to live, he fell victim +to the murderer’s knife in the hands of an eccentric and talented +young noblewoman, Charlotte Corday, who hoped to end the revolution +by murdering Marat, whereas her deed had exactly the opposite effect. +She belonged to the Girondist circles whose persecution followed the +outbreak of the war and whose suppression Marat demanded when at +first victory seemed doubtful.</p> + +<p>Marat was unquestionably a true friend of the people and his published +and spoken convictions were utterly sincere. In spite of his powerful +and completely independent position, for he was affiliated with no +particular party, he rejected every salaried position, every political distinction +and lived in the poorest circumstances, the very bathtub which +he used and which later attained a sort of celebrity as a curiosity being +borrowed from a neighbor. He received petitioners without number, +and endeavoured in the “Letterbox” of his paper, which he was the first +to introduce, to answer the countless questions put by the people. Charlotte +Corday only obtained an interview with him after several unsuccessful +attempts, by pretending that she was seeking help for a widow +with five children. The paper which Marat holds in his hand in David’s +picture was sent in by her to obtain admission, and not without reason +or effect has the artist made these words legible: “13 July, 1793, Charlotte +Corday to Citizen Marat.” “To be unfortunate is to be sure of your +assistance.” An order for 25 francs which Marat had made out for the +widow in whose name Charlotte Corday sought his aid lies on the stool +in the foreground. Her dagger seems to have found him while he affixed +his signature to it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span></p> + +<p>This composition is among David’s finest achievements in its combination +of very simple forms and great expressiveness. We almost feel the +corpse still lives, still breathes. The most touching naturalness is combined +with a truly heroic style comparable to that of France’s great +tragic poets, such as Racine and Corneille. If we remember that at the +time this picture was painted, the elegant Rococo painters were still +producing their piquant compositions, we recognize that in art as in life +a new era had dawned, an art founded on entirely new conceptions, +which built its compositions with large and massive forms and sought +again those depths of inspiration which had entirely disappeared from +the art of the court painters.</p> + +<p>David painted still another composition as propaganda for his political +ideals. A thirteen-year-old drummer boy, Joseph Bara, fell in the +battles in the Vendee in December, 1793, and David was commissioned +by the Convention to immortalize the death of this young hero of the +Republic. This painting, now in the Museum at Avignon, although unfinished, +and very simple in conception, has many charming qualities. +French writers have particularly praised the purity and elegance of the +drawing and the beauty of the youthful form; and in fact the swelling +rhythmic line and vivacity of the bodily forms are very pleasing. If, +however, we analyse the essentially novel quality in this art, it lies in the +reduction of the composition to its bare essentials, combined with a +deepened expressiveness. The scene of the battle in which the boy fell is +only lightly indicated. In the background are clouds which might be +cannon smoke, and far to one side the disappearing form of a standard +bearer. The boy presses the republican cockade to his breast with one +hand—there is no other indication of the day’s realities—everything +else is universal, idealistic. The nakedness, the boy’s idealized features, +the wide empty spaces of the background with its suggestion of a hill—everything +is concentrated on the suffering and inspiration which speak +from the lines of the body. The moment of transition from life to death—which +to be sure the friends of the revolution had ample chance of observing—is +wonderfully depicted. We feel the trembling of the body, +the lift of the breast, the stiffening of the mouth and of the half-closed +eyes. The curious color scheme of the painting, the thin sulphur yellow +background, the pale blue shadows in the figure, the luxuriant dark +brown hair and the brightly colored cockade—contrive a curious effect.</p> + +<p>Close bonds of friendship united David to Danton and Robespierre, +the two other leaders of the Reign of Terror, as well as to Marat—although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> +this applies only to the early days where Danton is concerned. +The break with him is one of the episodes in the painter’s life which is +most difficult to explain although David can hardly have been alone to +blame, for Danton’s violent nature was prone in moments of passion to +transform friends into foes. It is unfortunate, however, that David did +not exhibit more independence in his political opinions, and that even +though he allowed himself to be dragged in Robespierre’s train, he +helped in the downfall of this most stirring of the revolutionary heroes.</p> + +<p>The varying attitudes of revolutionary critics make it even harder to +evaluate Danton’s personality and contribution than that of Marat. +Unlike Marat he was no knight of the pen, but a man of words and +deeds, living fiercely in the passions of the moment, and always at his +best in the times of greatest difficulty.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig21" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig21.jpg" width="1468" height="1778" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 21. St. Just (1792)</span></p> + +<p><i>Private Possession, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig22" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig22.jpg" width="1419" height="1776" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 22. Self Portrait (1794)</span></p> + <p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The personal documents which give us intimate glimpses of the personalities +of the other revolutionary leaders are entirely lacking in +Danton’s case. He was too impulsive for this form of expression, or, in +his leisure moments, too lazy. His portraits give one an impression of +the strength and softness, obstinacy and good nature, energy and procrastination, +which characterized this hero of the revolution whose dramatic +fate has been the inspiration of many a poet. His career was short +but glorious. He rose like a meteor from the obscurity of a provincial +law practice to a dominating position, and during the years 1792 to 1794 +his powerful figure was in the foreground and associated with every important +event. His opponents accused him of cruelty and dishonesty. +It is undeniable that he occasionally indulged his wild impulse to destroy +those that opposed him, as witness his speech, “Revolutions cannot +be carried out on tea.” Although the September murders occurred +during his day, his guilt lies rather in not preventing them, than in any +instigation of them. He was occupied at that time with the formation of +the volunteer army, and the monument erected to his memory by the +City of Paris in the eighties, which depicts him inspiring the citizens +with flaming words to departure for the tottering front, was well deserved. +Whatever the faults of his stormy and excitable nature, he did +more than any other to save his country in a moment of grave danger. +So far as his dishonesty is concerned, he seems now and then to have +dealt not all too accurately with State and private property, but his patriotism +was none the less sincere. We must remember that not all active +natures can live on nothing, like Marat and Robespierre, and that a +powerful physical constitution demands other recreations. Danton had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> +far more love of life than the dry Robespierre, and liked to be surrounded +by his men and women friends. He finally, to the horror of some historians, +acquired a small country property where he hoped, his labours +over, to retire with wife and children, an ambition destined never to +be fulfilled.</p> + +<p>There is in the Museum at Troyes a portrait by David of Danton’s +first wife,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> the brave Gabrielle, a healthy, capable and intelligent +housewife with black eyes and rosy cheeks—a true type of the new +Bourgeoisie. She seems to have been as cheerful as she was kind, and +gave Danton several children to whom he was tenderly attached. She +was destined not to see his downfall. When in February, 1793, he returned +from the Belgian front, he found that his wife had died and been +buried several days previously. It is characteristic both of his love for +her and his untamed nature that seven days after her death he had both +grave and coffin opened up, embraced the corpse and commissioned a +sculptor friend to make a death mask and a bust of her. His friends had +great difficulty in saving him from an emotional breakdown. Even the +cool Robespierre sought to comfort him in the most feeling manner in a +letter in which he pledges him his devotion and friendship unto death. +How quickly and how passionately they lived, these revolutionaries! A +couple of months later Danton married a sixteen-year-old girl, and a +year after that, Robespierre, who had promised—and undoubtedly with +sincere conviction—to be true to him till death, brought him to the +guillotine.</p> + +<p>The dual rule of two temperaments so opposed as Danton’s and +Robespierre’s could not endure for long. One cannot conceive a greater +contrast than that between the robust Danton, who loudly proclaimed +his every thought and the elegant frail Robespierre who was all self-control +and deliberation.</p> + +<p>How clever and calculating an actor Robespierre was is shown by +the account of his attempted murder by a young girl after the manner +of Marat’s. The attempt failed. The crowd surged up the stairs to his +room to congratulate him. Robespierre was seated in a corner calmly +peeling an orange. Without a word he looked sternly at the intruding +crowd, till in embarrassment they crept away. In his place Danton undoubtedly +would have launched into an impassioned speech of thanks.</p> + +<p>Robespierre and his friend St. Just (<a href="#i_fig21">Fig. 21</a>) are both men of pleasing +appearance—almost good-looking as compared to Danton’s ugly bull-dog<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> +countenance. They were, especially Robespierre, who wore a wig +and sword to the last, neat and even elegant in their dress, which differed +sharply from Danton’s almost gypsy-like effect.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the “Titan”—so accustomed was he to towering above +his opponents in the Convention and pelting them with his Shakespearian +witticisms—underestimated his puny but quick-witted and accurate +opponent, Robespierre, and before he realized it, he had met his +doom. Just as Danton was about to mitigate the rigours of the Convention’s +procedure, just as he hoped to take things a bit more easily +personally, came his impeachment—plotted so subtly by Robespierre +and his helper St. Just that there was no escape. So desperate a fight +did the giant put up, however, for himself and his friends that it hung +by a thread that his accusers might find themselves ruined in his stead. +After a number of most dubious witnesses had testified against Danton, +St. Just felt it wiser to deny him all defence by having the Court decide +that anyone who conducted himself so offensively toward his judges as +Danton, could be condemned without further hearing. Danton’s mere +presence was enough to dismay the jury, who, moreover, were not really +convinced of his guilt. When they retired, a rumor went about that he +had been acquitted. His accusers, thereupon, rushed to the jury room +and forced the rebellious members to submission. It is here that our +artist, who was a devoted admirer of Robespierre, appears in no favorable +light. He pressed about the jury with other members of the Convention, +and the report runs, called out to those who were still hesitating, +“Do you still believe Danton innocent? Has he not already been +judged by public opinion? Only cowards could so conduct themselves!” +What a fine argument!! One member of the jury burst into sobs, and, +as he could not bring himself to vote for Danton’s impeachment, he was +asked: “Who is more useful to the Republic, Robespierre or Danton?” +“Robespierre,” replied the juryman sobbing. “Then Danton must go to +the guillotine,” was the response.</p> + +<p>Then came the day of the execution with its procession of three wagons, +each bearing five or six condemned prisoners, and towering above +them all, Danton looking proudly over the heads of the throng. The +procession passed the little Café de Parnasse where, once upon a time, he +had met his Gabrielle; then the Café de la Regence, and whom did he +see there? It is hard to believe. There sat his former friend, the traitorous +David, busily making a drawing of him (perhaps the drawing in +the museum at Lille, <a href="#i_fig17">Fig. 17</a>). “Lackey!” Danton called to him in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> +scorn. Next, as the procession passed Robespierre’s house, Danton +called out, “You will soon follow me! Your house will be torn down, +and men will cast salt upon the earth where it stood.”</p> + +<p>Danton tried to the last to cheer the friends around him—the ordinarily +merry Camille Desmoulins who was grieving over his bride, +Lucille; the poet Fabre, who affirmed that one of his accusers, who was +also a poet, would doubtless steal his unprinted manuscripts and publish +them under his own name. “Soon that will no longer worry you,” said +Danton to him. The executions were quickly under way. The sun was +setting, and Danton’s giant figure was silhouetted darkly against the +evening sky. One of his friends wanted to embrace him but the executioner +would not permit it. He wanted to finish his task before sundown. +“Idiot,” said Danton to him, “Will you be able to prevent our +heads from kissing each other in the basket?” For one moment he +flinched when he thought of his young wife, “My beloved, shall I never +see you again?” Then, with an effort, he exclaimed, “Come Danton, let +there be no weakness,” and to the executioner, “Show my head to the +people. It is worth it.” These were his last words.</p> + +<p>The curse uttered by Danton as he passed Robespierre’s house was +fulfilled all too quickly. Before five months were up, Robespierre trod +the same path, and the wagon was halted before his house to let the +deposed Dictator see the mob in its fury sprinkling his door with the +blood of a slaughtered ox.</p> + +<p>And now the earth began to tremble under David’s feet. He was to +the last a devoted adherent of Robespierre. When the latter on the eve +of his fall read to the Jacobins his defence which ended with the words, +“I am ready to drink the poisoned cup,” David cried out “We will drink +it with you.” He must have been thinking of his portrayal of the death +of Socrates, but he probably hardly realized how imminent was the fall +of the last great leader of the revolution and how very nearly he himself +was involved in that fall.</p> + +<p>David, as we know, did not complete his painting of Bara. This was +because he was planning for the Convention a festival in honor of the +fallen drummer boy. He was a great master in the arrangement of such +celebrations. With their carefully designed costumes, massed choirs, improvised +statues and profusion of flowers and patriotic orations, they +must have been astonishingly impressive, comparable only to the national +festivals of the Roman Empire. Unfortunately these artistic +manifestations of the revolution, which constituted an appreciable part<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> +of David’s life work, were in their nature transitory. David had set the +date of the Bara festival for the 10th Thermidor (July 26, 1794). This +was the very day of Robespierre’s downfall, and his execution took place +two days later. Through this coincidence of date—or had David been +warned?—he did not attend the sitting of the Convention on the 10th +Thermidor. Had he done so, he would undoubtedly have been arrested +and guillotined with Robespierre’s other adherents.</p> + +<p>When he came into the Convention hall three days later he was denounced +by André Dumont and obliged to defend himself. He probably +believed the end had come. He was no orator, and his defect of speech +made things still harder for him. He stood there, pale and fearful, and +it is said a nervous perspiration so dewed his forehead that it dripped +down his coat to the floor. Where now was the courage with which he +had offered to die with Robespierre; with which when Marat was attacked +in the Convention he had once exclaimed: “Kill me in his place!” +Yes, it was undoubtedly easier to make drawings of one’s enemies and +former friends on their road to the guillotine than to defend one’s life +before a tribunal of the people. He made so pitiful an impression that +they let him go. Two days later, however, it was thought wiser to arrest +him. At first his sentence was light and he was allowed to work, but +soon, after another stormy session of the Convention, he was transferred +to the Luxembourg. His imprisonment lasted five months. Toward +the end, conditions were again made easier and he was allowed +to work. Then he was set free, and again, this time at the instigation of +his fellow artists, imprisoned for months. Finally during the general +amnesty at the end of the year 1795 he again obtained his freedom. This +was the end of his political activities. The terrible months of uncertainty +during his imprisonment, when death so often stared him in the face, +must have been a time of spiritual growth for him, for they resulted in +his painting a marvellous series of portraits. His achievement at this +time, and during the following years when the revolution slowly ebbed, +is the greatest of his artistic career.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig23" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 22em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig23.jpg" width="1396" height="1766" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 23. Woman of the Revolution (1795)</span></p> + +<p><i>Museum, Lyon</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig24" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 23em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig24.jpg" width="1450" height="1764" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 24. Napoleon as First Consul (1797)</span></p> + <p><i>Private Possession, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>There is first of all a portrait depicting the artist at the period of his +imprisonment (<a href="#i_fig22">Fig. 22</a>). It is seldom that a self portrait expresses so +vividly the perplexities of a period of terror as do the haunted eyes of +this young fanatic. These eyes have been called evil, and David himself +described as a good artist but an evil man. The moral equipment of the +revolutionaries cannot be summarized in such simple fashion, however. +David’s political opponents hit nearer the mark when they called him to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> +the defence of Marat, “What does that prove so far as Marat is concerned? +Only the devotion of an honorable man who is allowing himself +to be carried away by excitement.” That David’s political life was so +passionate, may be due in part to the youthful violence of his friends. +Nearly all the revolutionary leaders were in their early thirties, an age +which is apt to be the stormy period of a man’s life. Old people do not +bring about revolutions. David, to be sure, was forty at the time of its +outbreak, but see how youthful he still looked; and the unspent store of +his strength is proved by the great age to which he lived.</p> + +<p>He painted another important work during his imprisonment—a +little landscape of the Luxembourg Gardens as seen from his window +(now in the Louvre), one of the first modern realistic landscapes which +seem to foreshadow Courbet’s efforts. The eighteenth-century conception +of landscape was very different. The landscapes were like theatrical +scenery, built up with carefully divided “wings.” Here, for the first +time, a French artist dared to paint an unpromising bit of earth exactly +as he saw it, with all nature’s accidental qualities. A garden fence in the +middle runs diagonally across the picture, while over in one corner is an +avenue of trees which should conventionally have been in the center of +the canvas—no planned symmetrical construction, no coulisses in +the foreground. Here, too, was a break with tradition—a new beginning.</p> + +<p>The two portraits of Monsieur and Madame Seriziat (<a href="#i_fig18">Figs. 18</a> and +<a href="#i_fig19">19</a>), painted by David while he was still under arrest, are particularly +illuminating as regards his personality. How could an artist, above +whose head the sword of Damocles still hung, paint such sunny and +optimistic portraits? We would, in fact, appreciate only one side of +David if we think of him always as the stern Roman, never as the light-hearted +Frenchman. From the beginning to the end of his artistic career, +side by side with his classic compositions and his moving revolutionary +portrayals (<a href="#i_fig23">Fig. 23</a>), he painted a series of charming portraits +which prove that through all the horrors of the revolution he never lost +his Gallic light-heartedness or his feeling for grace. At the beginning of +the series stands the pleasing portrait of Vigée LeBrun, painted in 1793, +and at the end, the famous portrait of Madame Recamier painted in +1800. In these works there is still an echo of eighteenth century elegance, +a trace of that esprit and glamour which always distinguishes +the best of French art. Yet the forms, the simple outlines, the wide +empty spaces of the background and the flatness of the treatment is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> +wholly new. And besides in these portraits we find for the first time +representations of the Bourgeoisie which replace those of the aristocracy +of the eighteenth century and whose best types became henceforth +the patrons of art which in former days the courts had been.</p> + +<figure id="i_fig25" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 33em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig25.jpg" width="2088" height="2788" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 25. Portrait of Vigée LeBrun (1793)</span></p> + <p><i>Museum, Rouen</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig26" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig26.jpg" width="1859" height="1261" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 26. Madame Recamier (1800)</span></p> + <p><i>Louvre, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure id="i_fig27" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 18em;"> + <img src="images/i_fig27.jpg" width="1104" height="1254" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p><span class="smcap">Fig. 27. Ingres as a Boy</span> (<i>c.</i> 1795)</p> + <p><i>Private Collection, Paris</i></p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Scarcely a year had passed since David’s escape from prison when his +freedom was again endangered by the royalist youth who believed that +the moment of reaction had arrived. But now there appeared in his studio +one day—this was at the end of 1796—an officer sent by General +Bonaparte who asked in his name whether he would accept an offer of +safety with his army in Italy. It is evidence of the extraordinary farsightedness +of Napoleon that his feelers extended everywhere—wherever +there might be future support for his power. But David did not accept +the offer: not that he had not at once recognized in Bonaparte his +coming greatness—in fact he already called him his “hero”—for +David’s instinct was in this respect just as unerring as was Bonaparte’s—but +that he had most likely promised himself, as a result of the terrible +experience of the last years, to no longer become embroiled in political +affairs. Napoleon’s political position was at this time not yet assured, +he did not give up the idea of tempting our artist. When he returned +from Italy he called at his studio for the first time and wished to +be painted. His restless spirit, however, could endure only one sitting. +The wonderful sketch which resulted (<a href="#i_fig24">Fig. 24</a>) is still in existence and +proves that Bonaparte knew what he was about when he desired David +to become the blazoner of his coming power. No artist has given us from +the very beginning so idealized a conception of his personality. The +breadth of the design in this unfinished composition; the noble verve of +the position; the dauntlessness of expression: everything was in keeping +with the great historical style that Napoleon himself might have +dreamed of. A few weeks later David received an invitation from Napoleon +to accompany him on his Egyptian campaign. Again the artist refused +although he had already entirely succumbed to the personality of +the great general. When Napoleon returned from Egypt he visited David +frequently and flattered him by taking him around Paris and talking +over with him his plans for beautifying the city. At the end David fell +completely under the influence of the stronger personality, as had happened +before in the case of Marat and Robespierre. And in the same degree +that Napoleon’s personality was more powerful than that of the +revolutionaries, his influence was the more crushing. Only in this way +can we account for the fact that the one-time revolutionary-champion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> +of democratic ideals became at the end the court painter of the emperor. +But this was not to the advantage of David’s art. So long as +Napoleon had not yet reached the height of his power—that is until +about 1800—our artist succeeded in producing several imposing compositions +in honor of the First Consul, especially the famous portrait on +horseback, where he is shown ascending the Alps, symbolically representing +his rise to the highest heights of glory—certainly an extraordinary +translation of a still living and even young personage into the +realm of the ideal and of history. But when Napoleon had become emperor +and David his none too carefully treated servant, his art became +weaker and weaker from year to year, the while his compositions grew +larger in size. When after the downfall of the emperor and the return of +the Bourbons he left France in exile and settled in Brussels, where he +lived until the year 1824, he still attracted the attention of the world +through his many pupils and admirers, though his art now belonged to +the past.</p> + +<p>David belongs with the few artists who are mentioned not only in the +history of art but also in political history—perhaps a doubtful advantage, +for preoccupation with two so conflicting fields as art and politics, +was only possible through the sacrifice of one or the other. Indeed David +as politician lived only in the shadow of the greater ones. In the field of +art he was at his best when his political ideas did not tempt him too +much toward abstract themes—that is to say, in portraiture, when he +had the model before him. As a human being his forte lay in a highly +sensitive response to the most intense intellectual and emotional currents +of his time. Since, during the greater part of his lifetime, these +currents were not primarily of an artistic nature, his art could not always +take advantage of them.</p> + +<p>This too intense interest in the great events of the day was perhaps +his weak point: the fact that he submitted too easily to the ephemeral +demands of his contemporaries, preferring the fortune of a successful +present to the glory which the future reserves only for the highest aims +and the complete renunciation of the demands of the day. From his +earliest years David had the critics on his side, and the steady stream of +admirers that had gathered about him showed no decrease, remaining +with him even in the most dangerous periods of his life. How different +did it fare with one of his really great contemporaries—Beethoven—who +throughout his life had to contend with uncomprehending critics, +but who is quoted as having said in this connection, “Damn me as much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> +as you like; you are not able to damn me into eternity.” Just as to the +great ones is given as a recompense for the misunderstanding of their +day the consciousness of their own value to the future, so the artist who +is glorified in his own time knows his own limitations. David said himself +that many of his own works such as the Brutus no longer had a living +value. It was his bad fortune that he was in too close contact with +the affairs of the revolution, for the greatest art (we return here to our +introductory remarks) cannot arise in the midst of bloodshed. There can +be no doubt of where the unattached and eternal art lay during David’s +period, when we call to mind the poetry of Goethe or the music of +Beethoven. The centers where the greatest poet and the greatest musician +of the days of the revolution lived—Weimar and Vienna—were +far removed from the theater of the struggle, just as Rembrandt’s art +flowered outside the scene of the Thirty Years War. From a distance +the deafening war clangor permeated into the quiet worlds of these rulers +in the realm of art; from a distance through transfiguring light appeared +to them the new ideas for which the struggle was waged. Such +should be the milieu where the greatest art is born—impregnated with +the shower of the newly created ideas, but quietly and not to such a degree +that its own existence is imperilled.</p> + +<p>This chance for perspective also makes it possible for the really great +artist to judge worldly matters more clearly than the one who lives in +the midst of the fray. How much more impartially, for instance, did +Beethoven, who otherwise did not care for politics, judge the events of +the times than David, who worried about them half his lifetime! Beethoven, +also, like the best of his contemporaries, was democratically inclined +and applauded the new revolutionary ideas. When Napoleon became +First Consul he recognized his greatness and desired to celebrate +in his music the hero who had brought the revolution to completion. +He began his great symphony, the “Eroica,” and wrote upon the title +page the name of Bonaparte next to his own. When the news was +brought to him that Napoleon had crowned himself emperor, indignant +that his illusions had been dispelled and that Bonaparte had become as +tyrannical as the crowned heads which the revolution had deposed, he +tore up the dedication and began the symphony anew, ending it with the +funeral march.</p> + +<p>The fascination of the art and the personality of David lies in the fact +that they reflect the period of the greatest intellectual and social upheaval +of his nation—an upheaval such as comes to every nation once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> +in its history, with such a force that through it the whole world is shaken. +In such moments of history creations of centuries collapse at one blow. +The foundations of faith and of morals waver; the ties of family and +friendship are torn apart and even the customary tasks of the day, under +other circumstances serving as an anchor alike to the weak and the +strong, appear useless and cease: like the flood of the terrific storm +which engulfs us, rudely tearing away from the strongest the guiding of +their own fate, and forcing the slothful into the maelstrom of the higher +general will. What remains for the individual who, hesitating, stands at +the edge of the precipice, viewing the tragic drama? Can he do better +than to plunge into the stream, keeping afloat as best he may?</p> + +<p>Happy the one who in such periods succeeds like our artist in preserving +so much of his own identity that from out the history of this +chaos his name still rings with vibrant life.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center smaller p4 vspace"> +<span class="gesperrt1">ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY COPIES PRIVATELY</span><br> +PRINTED FOR FREDERIC FAIRCHILD SHERMAN<br> +MCMXXIX +</p> +</div> + +<div class="chapter footnotes"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> The picture is not dated, but since the portrait of Madame de Verninac which is almost identical +in composition is dated 1799, it is most likely executed shortly thereafter.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> The figure studies in this sketchbook are interesting from another point of view (compare <a href="#i_fig10">Fig. 10</a>, +a study of a beggar closely related to the composition of the Belisarius, although later in date). +They prove clearly the endeavour of David to replace by his own the eighteenth-century style of +drawing as he had learned it in the Boucher school. Instead of modelling the figures through diagonal +parallel lines, indicating the shadows and neglecting the outlines, he tries to produce the effect of plasticity +through clearly connected outlines alone, leaving out the modelling entirely. In this respect also +David is the predecessor of artists of the most modern school. He developed his style of drawing in +connection with his studies after Roman sculptures and was strongly influenced in his method of designing +by a young French sculptor, Lamarie, whom he met in Rome. (See Charles Saunier: <cite>Louis +David</cite>, p. 16.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> Illustrated in the excellent biography of David by Léon Rosenthal in the series: <cite lang="fr">Les Maitres de +l’Art</cite>, p. 30.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> <cite lang="de">Briefe aus der französischen Revolution</cite>, edited by G. Landauer, 1922.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a> Reproduced in Charles Saunier, <cite>David</cite>, p. 44 and 48.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> The best book on the subject is by Pierre de Nolhac, <cite lang="fr">La Reine Marie Antoinette</cite>, Paris.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> Reproduced in the book on Danton by Louis Madelin (Paris, 1914). The following pages are +based upon this excellent biography.</p> + +</div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter transnote"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> + +<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made +consistent when a predominant preference was found +in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> + +<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was +obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p> + +<p>Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned +between paragraphs and outside quotations. In versions +of this eBook that support hyperlinks, the page +references in the List of Illustrations lead to the +corresponding illustrations.</p> + +<p>In the original book, two groups of illustrations +were printed side-by-side on the same page and +not in numeric sequence. In this eBook, they may be +displayed side-by-side or one below the other, +in the same sequence as in the original book.</p> + +<p>Footnotes, originally at the bottoms of the pages that referenced them, +have been collected, sequentially renumbered, and placed at the end of +the book. +</p> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75887 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75887-h/images/cover.jpg b/75887-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2792e74 --- /dev/null +++ b/75887-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75887-h/images/i_fig00.jpg b/75887-h/images/i_fig00.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..15be167 --- /dev/null +++ b/75887-h/images/i_fig00.jpg diff --git a/75887-h/images/i_fig00a.jpg b/75887-h/images/i_fig00a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..15d5fd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/75887-h/images/i_fig00a.jpg diff --git a/75887-h/images/i_fig01.jpg 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