Tea at Trianon: A Final Moment with a Masterpiece

John Wilson Croker on Marie-Antoinette

"We have followed the history of Marie Antoinette with the greatest diligence and scrupulosity. We have lived in those times. We have talked with some of her friends and some of her enemies; we have read, certainly not all, but hundreds of the libels written against her; and we have, in short, examined her life with– if we may be allowed to say so of ourselves– something of the accuracy of contemporaries, the diligence of inquirers, and the impartiality of historians, all combined; and we feel it our duty to declare, in as a solemn a manner as literature admits of, our well-matured opinion that every reproach against the morals of the queen was a gross calumny– that she was, as we have said, one of the purest of human beings."

~from History of the Guillotine by John Wilson Croker, 1844

Edmund Burke on Marie-Antoinette

"It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France, then dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely there never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she had just begun to move in, glittering like a morning star full of life and splendor and joy. Oh, what a revolution....Little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fall upon her, in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a look which threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded...."

~Edmund Burke, October 1790

Tuesday, March 16, 2021

A Final Moment with a Masterpiece

If Louis XVI had indeed been an authoritarian then the French Revolution would not have taken place. He would have had the instigators put to death, which he did not do. From The Fairfield Mirror:

For those who read my columns every week, this is my last hurrah, my final issue. After all the columns I’ve written this year, from Byzantine mosaics to Mesoamerican sculpture, I have introduced artworks from many cultures and time periods. Though I’ve tried to touch on a wide array of art and issues, I’m sure some of you have wondered what my favorite work of art is: I present to you Jacques-Louis David’s “The Death of Socrates.”

Currently hanging in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, this painting represents the pinnacle of neoclassicism and is undoubtedly David’s most famous work. The piece dates back to 1787, two years before revolution rocked France. Prior to the upheaval, Europe was enthralled by the art and culture of classical Greece and Rome. The run-up to the French Revolution coincided with building tensions between classes and growing authoritarianism of King Louis XVI.

The scene depicts the *legendary Greek philosopher Socrates, convicted by an Athenian tribunal for impiety and corrupting the youth. His punishment was death. Here we can see the old sophist sitting on a bed in a grim, dark, stone chamber, holding up a finger of rhetorical authority in defiance as he reaches out for a cup of poisonous hemlock. Those who surround him–his students and followers–exude pain, sorrow and emotion at what is to be his final moments of life. The suffering is best shown by the young man holding out the deadly cup to Socrates, who cannot even bear to look at the solemn suicide.

One character in this picture remains stoic and emotionless. Believed to be Socrates’ close follower Plato, who was not present at his teacher’s death, he is also marked by the scroll and ink on the ground next to him, symbolizing his writing of the “Phaedo,” which immortalized the story of Socrates’ death. His lack of emotion and bowed head seem to signify the weight of Greece’s philosophical knowledge and responsibility falling onto him in the aftermath of the suicide.

David’s style and form is on full display with expertly defined musculature and elegantly flowing drapery, both contrasting the sharp lines of the stone blocks and furniture. The masterful lighting also serves to dramatize the impassioned scene.

Beyond the clear artistic skill of the painting, I love its message and context in history. Rather than leave Athens, recant his beliefs or stop teaching his followers, he took death willingly. It’s not only a story of defending wisdom, philosophy and free expression, but of being principled enough to pay the ultimate price in the service of those values. It is a truly inspiring tale and one that is executed so perfectly in this piece. The reason for its temporal relevance is likely because the same sentiment whirled around Paris and its outskirts. The unjust treatment of French citizens by a heavy-handed government made this a striking parallel. The years following this work’s completion were tumultuous for France, with war, intervening autocrats and unstable efforts at republicanism taking heavy tolls on the people’s fight for liberty. (Read more.)