British and French Print Media's and the Death of Marat

On this day in 1793 a young French woman named Charlotte Corday sought a meeting with the prominent French revolutionary, Jean-Paul Marat, promising information on an future uprising.  After being turned away in the morning, Corday was admitted in the evening to Marat's bathroom, where he conducted business now due to a debilitating skin disease that kept him submerged in his bathtub.  Corday recited the names of dissidents while Marat wrote them down, proclaiming that they would soon be guillotined.  This was Corday's cue; she drew out a kitchen knife hidden in her clothing and stabbed Marat in his chest, killing him almost instantly.  She then calmly waited for the police to apprehend her and was guillotined four days later.

Corday hoped that this act of violence would put an end to the violence of the French Revolution which she felt was now out of hand.  She blamed Marat for the excessive and repulsive bloodshed and she was not alone in this sentiment.  A search in the British Museum's collection of prints reveals a stark contrast in how France and Britain interpreted the assassination. 

Anonymous, 1793

Paul André Basset, 1793

Corday is often portrayed in French prints as a savage (though well-dressed) beast of a woman.

Isaac Cruikshank, 1793

William Holland, 1793

Whereas in British prints she is often depicted as a pretty young woman stabbing a buffoon.  One example is my favourite image of Corday, by James Gillray which portrays her with the dignity and grace of an eighteenth-century heroine. 

There are many depictions of the event by French and British printmakers that survive and of course, not all of them can fit within these two categories.  Notably this French print which is thought to have been printed a few years after the dust had settled and seems to give an accurate representation of Corday's arrest.  She sits patiently, next to victim while men rush in to apprehend her.

Jacques Swebach-Desfontaines, c. 1793-8

A Walk through 18th Century Paris

Musicologist Mylène Pardoen has brought us back in time with what she thinks the Grand Châtelet district of Paris sounded like.  We forget how much of our environment and memories consists of sounds and that is perhaps why few letters from the period document them.  The video above (start around the 2 minute mark) seeks to transport the viewer into Paris, with a 3D reconstruction of what it would have looked  and sounded like. Sigh, c'est merveilleux.

Now on View: Antiquity Discovered

Anyone going to Paris?

Currently on view at the Louvre is a fantastic exhibition for us 18th century enthusiasts, Antiquity Discovered.  The exhibition aims to explore the Age of Enlightenment's fascination with ancient Greece and Rome which, in time, would lead to the Neoclassical movement.  This neoclassic fascination extended through most of Europe, from England to Russia and could be seen in painting, sculpture and especially architecture (not to mention fashion).  It was a time when artwork from antiquity was collected, admired, and copied.

Antiquity Discovered promises to be a landmark exhibition due to the caliber of artwork spanning the globe.  Multiple media works from both museums and private collections including The Nightmare from Detroit Institute, the Louvre's own Oath of the Horatii, and The Finding of the the Laocoon from the Virginia Museum of Fine Art are some of the 150 works being exhibited.  Can you believe that all of this splendor is only on view until February 11?  That means time is wasting for this once in a lifetime opportunity to see some of the greatest Neoclassical works from inside one of the grandiose palaces of Europe.  Hopefully Fabultastic will get there soon and tell us all about it since it was he who was kind enough to point it out to me.

Happy New Year!

Well...sort of. Elyse reminded me today that it is the first day of the French Republican Calendar. After the end of The Terror, the elitist republicans decided to make their own calendar which, they thought, was more logical. The result was complicated and didn't mesh with the rest of the world's method. Elyse has broken down the complexities of this calendar which I highly recommend you checking out. Bonne Annee!

The Duke of Dorset Writes to Georgiana

News from France!

In April of 1786 the Duke wrote to Georgiana to fill her in on the latest gossip. "The little Po [the duchesse de Polignac] is preparing to set out..." for her awaited visit to Georgiana. He reported that "poor Mrs. B" [Marie Antoinette] was in true despair about the loss of her friend and green with envy about not being able to join the happy party in England. In fact, he said, it seemed as if a whole "colony" was going to London. Even the Queen's other favourite, the princesse de Lamballe had requested leave to Brighthelmstone, but the Duke was doubtful whether Antoinette would be willing to part with her. "Mrs. B told her she would think about it before she mentioned her wishes to the King, and yesterday she sent me (Mrs. B) to desire to see me on Saturday morning so I am afraid [her voyage depends upon my advice], which I am sorry for, as I cannot judge the propriety or impropriety of her being in a place with the P. of W. and Mrs. F..." It would appear the antics of the Prince were about to ruin the Princesse's planned holiday!

Immortal Companion: Doña María Ana de Pontejos

One of the most noticeable aspects of this paintings is that the sitter's pug was painted with more care than the sitter. Unfortunately, I can't tell you much about either the sitter or her pug, which doesn't stay entirely true to this series I created, but I can tell you that Francisco Goya was another artist obsessed with his dogs. Therefore, the pug probably kept his interest longer than the Marquesa de Pontejos.

María Ana was painted here in 1786 to mark her marriage to Spain's ambassador to Portugal, who also just happened to be the prime minister's brother. Very political. As was typical with a bridal portrait, she holds a pink carnation as a symbol of love. Her beloved pug steps before her in an act of protection, cementing his employment in the painting as a symbol of loyalty.

But, this is also, and very importantly, a painting of fashion!

By 1786, Marie Antoinette's Triannon fashion had finally trickled down to Spain, who seemed to be always be a fashionably late country in the 18th century. Although the marquesa attempts to mimic the free-flowing Triannon style, her gown is still extremely Spanish. After all, that tight corset was what Marie Antoinette strove to get away from with her Gualle gowns. However she does capture the essence of those gowns with the flower details and the thin white muslin fabric. Her 'doo and straw hat are also tres tres Antoinette. Of course, as a fashionable lady, María Ana's pug has an outfit that matches his mistress'. His pink ribbon with bells (so he can't get lost in the garden) is from the same ream of ribbon as the one tied around her waste. As James St James wisely states, fashionable companions should match; "Be sure that your partner doesn't clash with your look. Plan ahead and execute together."

Madame Recamier: The Living Image

Here is a story that Andy Warhol would have thoroughly enjoyed.

An iconic image of regency France, or France in the time of Napoleon, is David's portrait of Madame Recamier, the famous society hostess. In 1800 David portrayed her as the ideal post-revolutionary woman: in the Classical gown (or negligee) of a citroyen, at ease with the non-monarchical state. She is so Enlightened, she can't even be bothered to wear shoes while she lounges on her chaise. How ancient Roman, no, how French nouveaux!

Well, when Harriet Lady Bessborough was in France, she decided to drop in on the icon that was Juliette Recamier. To her surprise, she found Madame exactly as she pictured her. Madame Recamier was in her skimpy white gown lounging in bed. Just like the painting! The only difference, Harriet noted, was that this time she was surrounded by men. How utterly scandalous! What would Lady Spencer say?! Harriet thought the whole thing was too ironic and decided to drop in on her again when she wasn't so exposed imposed. The second time, it was the same thing; Madame Recamier in bed, surrounded by men, her "beautiful white shoulders exposed and perfectly uncovered to view - in short, completely undressed and in bed." Harriet, who had a history being shocked by French aristocrats' blatant sexuality, asked if Madame was indisposed. Out of the graceful pink lips came, not the sweet voice of a Muse, but the shrill protests of big-mouth attention seeker. To Harriet's prudish horror, Madame Recamier proclaimed to everyone in the room that she was not indisposed and she was not pregnant either (if that's what you mean you cheeky Brit!).

Obviously Harriet was not hip with the times.