Vol. XXI - University of the Cumberlands
Transcription
Vol. XXI - University of the Cumberlands
The Upsilonian Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter Phi Alpha Theta Department of History and Political Science University of the Cumberlands Williamsburg, Kentucky Vol. XXI Summer 2010 The front cover contains a picture of the Bennett Building, home of the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter of Phi Alpha Theta and the History and Political Science Department of University of the Cumberlands. Built in 1906 as part of Highland College, University of the Cumberlands assumed ownership in 1907. The building underwent extensive renovation in 1986-1987. Journal of the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter of Phi Alpha Theta THE UPSILONIAN Student Editor Matthew Brotherton Board of Advisors M.C. Smith, Ph.D., Chairman of the Board of Advisors and Associate Professor of History Oline Carmical, Ph.D., Professor of History Kyla Fitz-Gerald, student member of Upsilon-Upsilon Christina Gillis, student member of Upsilon-Upsilon Bruce Hicks, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Political Science Christopher Leskiw, Ph.D, Associate Professor of Political Science Al Pilant, Ph.D., Professor of History COPYRIGHT © 2010 by University of the Cumberlands Department of History and Political Science All Rights Reserved Printed in the United States of America ii Table of Contents iv Comments from the Student Editor.... Matthew C. Brotherton v Comments from the President.......................... Taylor Bowman v Comments from the Advisor..................................Eric L. Wake vi The Authors Articles 1 “Let Not My Sex Be an Objection:” Olympe De Gouges and the French Revolution....................................... Kiersten Friend 11 Angel of Assassination: Charlotte Corday and the Death of Jean-Paul Marat................................................ Taylor Bowman 22 Reflections of the Revolution: A Study of Paintings by Jacques-Louis David . ........................................ Megan Hensley iii Comments From The Editor Greetings and Salutations: Virginia Woolf once wrote that “Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded.” Indeed, it is those few that dedicate their lives to recording the events of history that allow us to grasp and understand what has come before. It is because of those historians of old that we can attempt to avoid the mistakes of our forefathers, but also to learn from them. The pursuit of history and the secrets that it holds is one of the hardest goals to achieve, and as such special thanks and congratulations are due for those who have, those who are, and those that will try to master this discipline and unlock the secrets that history still holds. Most special congratulations go to Kiersten Friend, Megan Hensley, and Taylor Bowman. They are part of a new generation of historians that will go forth and continue in the best traditions of those guardians of history. We also thank those who submitted papers that were not included in this journal. It is my hope that you continue your pursuit of history in the future. Thanks also go out to the faculty of University of the Cumberlands’ Department of History and Political Science. Thank you for your time and effort put into reading and editing these research papers for their inclusion in The Upsilonian. Special thanks go to Dr. Eric Wake, chair of the Department and advisor for our Phi Alpha Theta chapter for his hard work and time working with the students and their papers. Finally, our sincerest thanks go to Mrs. Fay Partin, secretary of the History Department. Without her hard work, this publication would not be possible. We present this 21st edition of The Upsilonian in the hope that the lessons and facts contained herein may present to a future generation the key to unlocking a future historical mystery. Happy reading and God bless. Matthew C. Brotherton Student Editor, Upsilon-Upsilon 2009-2010 iv Comments From The President Another academic year has come and gone and it is time, once again, to publish The Upsilonian. As one of the authors included in this edition, let me say that it is an honor to have a paper printed in this volume, and allow me to extend hardy congratulations to the other two students who have been granted the same privilege. Their papers are truly exceptional, and I am certain that those who read this journal will find its contents engaging and enjoyable. This year has been a good one for the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter. In addition to (and as a result of) our group’s fundraising efforts, three of our members were able to attend the Phi Alpha Theta Biennial National Convention in San Diego, California, where we had a paper presented. Two of us were also able to present at the Kentucky Regional Conference, where Kiersten Friend won first place for the very paper published in this edition. We are very proud of her. Our group has been blessed with a dedicated faculty sponsor in Dr. Eric Wake as well as with the support of the entire History and Political Science Department. I would like to offer a word of thanks to Dr. Chuck Smith, who consistently supplies our chapter’s bake sales and who has been the faculty advisor for this edition, and to Fay Partin, the department secretary who has, even now, begun to piece our Best Chapter application together. We are much indebted to you both. The end of the school year is always a bittersweet affair. On the one hand, many of us are graduating, moving on to higher levels of education or venturing out into the real world to encounter the joys and pressures of life beyond academia. On the other, we are leaving behind many friends and faculty that we have come to respect and cherish, and the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter is losing several dedicated members. But such is life. Changes of this kind are inevitable, and there is nothing left for me to do as President except to express, one final time, my gratitude for this year’s Phi Alpha Theta members and the faculty and staff that have seen us through. I appreciate you all and wish each of you the best in your future endeavors. Taylor Bowman, President Upsilon-Upsilon, 2009-2010 Comments From The Advisor Another year has come and gone. It is hard to believe that I have been the advisor of this chapter for twenty-five years. The time has been a joyful one for me because I have had the pleasure of working with some great individuals many of whom I still hear from every now and then. All of them have contributed to making UpsilonUpsilon one of the more outstanding chapters in Phi Alpha Theta. This year we have had a core of dedicated students who could always be depended upon to do what needed to be done. We went to the national convention in San Diego and the group worked hard in helping to raise the money. The Chapter was able to pay for the airplane fare and the hotel and food expenses. This event demanded much work, and I am grateful to all who participated. We even presented a paper which received some good comments. At the regional convention, two of our people presented papers and one, Kiersten Friend, won the best undergraduate paper. So the conferences were good to us. As was our lecture series, where attendance was good at each lecture. The “Health Care Debate” drew around 150 people. Most had around 50 people. So it was a good year for our attendance. But the end of the year is always a little sad because many who have worked so hard will graduate and move on into their adult life. Yet, this is how it should be and this is what we try to prepare them to do. Remember, however, you are a part of the Phi Alpha Theta tradition and you will always be a part of us! Eric L. Wake, Ph.D Advisor, Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter v Authors Kiersten Friend was a May 2010 graduate with a major in history and a minor in Communication Arts. The original draft of her paper was written for the Departmental capstone course. Taylor Bowman was a May 2010 graduate with majors in History and English. The original draft of his paper was written for the Departmental capstone course. Megan Hensley was a May 2010 graduate with a major in history and minors in Art and French. The original draft of her paper was written for the Departmental capstone course. vi “LET NOT MY SEX BE AN OBJECTION:” OLYMPE DE GOUGES AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION By Kiersten Friend The onset of the French Revolution in 1789 completely changed the political culture of France. The nation, Paris especially, was steeped in thoughts of liberty. The future seemed to promise a much freer society, where anyone who wanted to participate in political activities could do so, including women. They hosted political club meetings and openly discussed the activities of the National Assembly.1 Olympe de Gouges was especially active. She firmly believed in equal rights, and saw the Revolution as the perfect time to give equal rights to everyone in France. However, it soon became evident to her that the only ones who would truly benefit from the Revolution were men. Olympe de Gouges was a groundbreaking women’s rights pioneer who refused to be bound by the mores of her time and unabashedly wrote what she believed, even though it eventually led to her death. De Gouges was very active in the Revolution from its beginning until her death in 1793. She served as a commentator on the events occurring in the government and among the people.2 From 1784 to 1793 she wrote more than sixty political pamphlets, a true feat for a woman of that time.3 She was also a playwright and was able to get four plays staged during the Revolution. All of her plays somehow related to political issues of the day.4 She was obviously very passionate about what was happening around her. De Gouges’s desire for women to have the same rights as men came from her own experiences. Born in southern France, she was given the name Marie Gouze. She was not born into an aristocratic family, so she did not have the educational opportunities to read the works of the enlightenment. Her father was a butcher, but she and many others in the community believed that her real father was actually a local nobleman.5 Whether this is true or not, de Gouges certainly believed it. She felt that she was denied a proper education since the nobleman never claimed her as one of his children.6 In 1765, Olympe was married to Louis Aubry, a friend of her father’s who was much older than she was. This was an arranged marriage that lasted until Aubry’s death a year later. The marriage did produce one child, a son named Pierre.7 In 1767, de Gouges met a wealthy military supplier and left for Paris with him. However, she never remarried and raised her son alone. Once in Paris, she changed her name to Olympe de Gouges and began working to educate herself and her son. She discovered that she was a talented writer and eventually wrote thirty plays.8 Her lack of education as a child and her forced marriage caused her to take an interest in the welfare of all oppressed peoples, but especially the inequality that was shown towards women. When the French Revolution began in 1789, Olympe de Gouges greeted it with enthusiasm. She saw it as the ultimate opportunity for women to achieve equal rights with men. She used the fame that she had achieved from her theater career to help promote her ideals and interests.9 When the National Assembly adopted the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen” in August 1789, de Gouges believed that the term ‘man’ meant universal mankind, not just those of the male gender. The hopes of de Gouges and other feminists were dashed 1 2 when prominent assemblyman Abbé Sieyès declared that there were two types of citizens: active and passive. He placed women in the passive category, along with children, beggars, and vagrants.10 De Gouges did not sit back and accept her status as a passive citizen. She wrote more pamphlets about the debates taking place in the National Assembly. One of her favorite topics to discuss was marriage. De Gouges believed that property should belong to both spouses, not solely the husband.11 In her pamphlet entitled “Social Contract,” de Gouges outlined a property agreement that those who wished to be married would have to sign. The agreement stated: “we wish to make our wealth communal, meanwhile reserving to ourselves the right to divide in favor of our children or towards those whom we might have a particular inclination.” 12 This idea was very controversial in a time when all of the property belonged to the husband and was left primarily to the eldest son. De Gouges was also very passionate about helping children and called for illegitimate children to be recognized by their fathers. This was no doubt because she believed herself to be illegitimate. In “Social Contract,” she declared that couples need to recognize that “property belongs directly to our children, from whatever bed they come.”13 She also said that it should be a crime for a parent to renounce one of their children.14 In addition to helping children, a law like this would also help single mothers who had been raped or taken as mistresses. De Gouges was also interested in helping poor children. She called on wealthy families to adopt poor children so that they might have the opportunity to get an education and better themselves.15 De Gouges did not only comment on issues that held particular interest for women (marriage and children), but also lent her pen to answering the question of what to do with the monarchy. In 1790, she wrote: “I would sacrifice neither my king to my country, nor my country to my king, but I would sacrifice myself to save them as a single entity, fully convinced that one cannot exist without the other.”16 De Gouges believed that the monarchy should be kept in place, but that it should be a constitutional monarchy.17 She defended the institution of a constitutional monarchy until the infamous Varennes Flight in June 1791.18 However, she did not support the killing of Louis XVI. Her views on the monarchy would be one of the causes that led to her downfall. She also argued that women should be allowed to actively participate in the legislative process, both by voting and by being eligible for elected office.19 Furthermore, she claimed that “These two powers [executive and legislative], like man and woman, should be united but equal in force and virtue to make a good household.”20 It was very courageous of de Gouges to publish her ideas about government, an area that was traditionally a man’s venue. This action alone shows that she truly was a groundbreaking pioneer for women’s rights. In September 1791, de Gouges wrote the work that would cement her status as one of the great early women’s rights advocates, “Declaration of the Rights of Women and Citizen.” This pamphlet was relatively unknown in her time, but today it is her most famous work. As the title suggests, de Gouges patterned her pamphlet after the 1789 “Declaration of the Rights of Man.”21 Basically, the only way that de Gouges changed her work from the original was in substituting or adding ‘woman’ to man.22 This document was revolutionary 3 because it was one of the first of its kind and it explained why women should be equal to men in the eyes of the law and society. Like the original “Declaration of the Rights of Man,” de Gouges based many of her views on the concept of ‘nature.’ The idea of ‘nature’ was an Enlightenment ideal that meant absolute truth and goodness.23 She refers to nature in the preamble saying that this document is “a solemn declaration of the natural, inalienable, and sacred rights of woman.”24 De Gouges was claiming that since nature was perfect, and that nature had given women the same rights as men, then women must surely be equal to men. It was a crime to deny anyone their natural rights.25 De Gouges drew heavily from the ideology of the time to support the claims that she put forth in her declaration. “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen” contains seventeen articles, or rights, that de Gouges rewrote based on the articles in “The Declaration of the Rights of Man.” De Gouges adjusted them to state what she felt women were entitled to have. The first article sums up de Gouges’s beliefs on equality; “Woman is born free and remains equal to man in rights.”26 In September 1791, a statement such as this was ground-breaking. Men of various classes were becoming more equal, but women had been largely left behind by the 1791 Constitution. De Gouges believed that because women had contributed to the Revolution, they had earned the same rights as men.27 Another article dealt with what de Gouges believed about government. She claimed that its purpose was for “the preservation of the natural and imprescriptable rights of woman and man. These rights are liberty, property, security, and especially the resistance to oppression.”28 Even though this article is essentially a revision of “The Declaration of the Rights of Man,” de Gouges clearly did not want a big, powerful government that would oppress its people.29 She believed that an oppressive government would give rise to inequality, which was exactly what she was fighting against. According to de Gouges, the new government should be based on the principles of liberty and equality, and that it should strive to protect its citizens and their rights. Her eagerness to comment on government shows how unconcerned she was with the expectations of the time. Many women discussed government, but few were willing to publically state their views. Her willingness to publish her views shows how pioneering she really was. De Gouges very strongly believed in the absolute equality of men and women. In article six, she discussed employment; “citizenesses and citizens, being equal in its [the law’s] eyes, should be equally admissible to all public dignities, offices and employments, according to their ability, and with no distinction other than that of their virtues and talents.”30 In this article, de Gouges states that she believes people should be given jobs based on their skills and merits, not because of their gender. The sixth article in de Gouges’s work was the same as the sixth article in the “Declaration of the Rights of Man.”31 Not surprisingly, “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen” did not go over well when it was published. The press was especially negative towards it. Most papers viewed de Gouges, and others like her, as foolish.32 Newspapers from both sides of the spectrum blasted her for it. The Royalist paper Tableau de Paris called de Gouges and other feminists a “choir of national virgins just as extravagant as they are ridiculous.”33 A pro-Revolution paper 4 called Révolutions de Paris said that de Gouges was “just showing off.”34 De Gouges’s willingness to state her views did nothing to bolster her popularity with the extremists who were wrangling for control of the Revolution. Interestingly, the part of the “Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen” that got de Gouges into the most trouble with the extreme leftist groups of the Revolution did not come from her views on women’s rights. In the introduction to the document, de Gouges dedicated the work to Marie Antoinette.35 This decision caused the far left clubs to view her as a Royalist.36 De Gouges, however, hoped that if the Queen championed the cause of women, it would lend more credibility to the movement and possibly make women’s equal rights a reality. Marie Antoinette likely never saw de Gouges’s pamphlet. Even though de Gouges went to great lengths to get her pamphlets into the hands of government officials, very rarely did they actually see them. They were considered to be ‘junk mail’ and were simply discarded. When some did find their way into the legislative chambers, they were typically disregarded.37 The same was true of the general populace of Paris. De Gouges plastered up posters and distributed pamphlets all over the city, but most people ignored them. Despite her work being disregarded, de Gouges’s fame continued to grow.38 Most people in Paris knew who she was, even if they did not agree with her actions. After the publication of “Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen,” de Gouges continued to write and speak in favor of women’s rights. Some of her ideas actually became law on September 20, 1792, when the National Assembly proclaimed equal rights for men and women. The National Assembly also made it easier for women to obtain divorces and serve as witnesses in trials.39 Women did not receive all of the gains that de Gouges had hoped for, but she viewed it as a step in the right direction. Sadly however, the strides made by women were completely erased with the establishment of the Napoleonic Codes in 1804.40 Aside from women’s rights issues, de Gouges continued to speak her mind on issues pertaining to the government and its leaders. She was especially leery of the Jacobins. While the Legislative Assembly was meeting during 17911792, she frequently referred to the Jacobins as a “hideaway for reprobates” and “a den of thieves.”41 She criticized the overthrow of the monarchy on June 20, 1792 and in the autumn of 1792 she again criticized the Jacobins.42 Her criticism of the Jacobins was what really brought her to the attention of the government. De Gouges’s favorite Jacobins to criticize were Maximilien Robespierre and Jean-Paul Marat. De Gouges considered Marat to be “a destroyer of laws, mortal enemy of the order, of humanity, and of his country.”43 She also accused him of “living large in a society in which he was both a tyrant and a plague.”44 De Gouges was even more critical of Robespierre and wrote two pamphlets accusing him of seeking to be a dictator. She addressed him directly in those pamphlets saying, “You tell yourself that you’re the unique author of the Revolution, you haven’t been, you are not, you will never be anything other than disgrace and execration.”45 She even suggested that Robespierre meet her at the Seine River, because there they could both do a service to their country: he by dying and she by giving her life drowning him.46 5 De Gouges stirred up more trouble for herself in December 1792 when she offered to defend Louis XVI in his trial. Even though she was no longer an adamant supporter of the monarchy, she did not believe that Louis should be killed. She wrote an impassioned letter to the National Convention in December 1792 offering herself to defend Louis in his trial. She even brought feminism into the issue saying, “let not my sex be an objection: that heroism and liberty may be possessed by women the Revolution has shown by more than one example.”47 De Gouges had no training as a lawyer, but she so strongly believed that Louis should be spared she offered to defend him. Most historians agree that this action sealed her fate more than any other because it enabled the Jacobins to depict her as a traitor to the Revolution, and therefore to France. De Gouges’s arguments in favor of sparing Louis’s life were sound and also very perceptive. She claimed that Louis could not be incriminated because “his ancestors filled to overflowing the cup of the sufferings of France; unhappily the cup broke in his hands and all its fragments rebounded upon his head. I may add that, had it not been for his court’s perversity, he might perhaps have been a virtuous king.”48 She also said that since they had stripped him of his power, he was no longer a threat.49 De Gouges even used an example from history to prove her point: “In the eyes of posterity the English are dishonored by the execution of Charles I.”50 In this statement, she told the National Convention that they would shame their nation by killing Louis. Her most insightful comment was “Beheading a king does not kill him. He lives long after death; he is really only dead when he survives his fall.”51 This meant that if the Convention killed Louis, then they would turn him into a martyr and he would be a rallying point for all those opposed to the Revolution. De Gouges’s arguments, and the fact that it was a woman presenting them, immensely angered the Jacobins and practically ensured that she would be arrested and executed. The only question remaining was when it would happen. Despite her impending demise, Olympe de Gouges refused to stop writing about women’s rights and criticizing the government. The Committee of Public Safety finally had her arrested on July 22, 1793. The immediate cause of her arrest was a pamphlet that she had written entitled “The Three Urns, The Salvation of the Fatherland.” In this pamphlet, de Gouges said that argument over which type of government France should have could be decided by letting the people vote on it. She suggested that three urns be set up, one for each type of government (monarchy, republic, federation), and the people put their vote in the urn representing what they chose.52 Another work that was used against her was a play she was working on which centered around Marie Antoinette and the royal family the night before they were overthrown. Jacobins used this play as further evidence of her supposedly being a royalist.53 De Gouges’s trial was held on November 1, 1793. She was charged with publishing “a work contrary to the expressed desire of the entire nation [“The Three Urns”].”54 The prosecutors also said that she had “openly provoked civil war and sought to arm citizens against one another” by publishing “The Three Urns.” They claimed that “There can be no mistaking the perfidious intentions of this criminal woman, and her hidden motives, when one observes her in all the works to which, at the very least, she lends her name.”55 Because of how ridiculous the charges against de Gouges were, it is obvious that the real reasons 6 that de Gouges was even on trial were because of her attacks on the Jacobin leaders and her support of the monarchy. Most of de Gouges’s trial record is filled with accounts of her slandering Robespierre and the Jacobin party. On her treatment of Robespierre, the prosecutors accused de Gouges of “spewing forth bile in large doses against the warmest friends of the people, their most intrepid defender.”56 It is clear from this statement that Robespierre had been offended by de Gouges, and that de Gouges had been writing pamphlets condemning the Jacobins and their goals. De Gouges’s early support of the monarchy and her defense of Louis’s life were also used against her. The prosecutors said that “The Three Urns,” “sees only the provocation to the reestablishment of royalty on the part of a woman who, in one of her writings, admits that monarchy seems to her to be the government most suited to the French spirit.”57 Her warning about sparing Louis’s life and offer to serve as his lawyer was also used as evidence against her.58 De Gouges was not given a lawyer because the court told her she had “wit enough to defend [herself].”59 She was found guilty and sentenced to death. When her sentence was given, de Gouges, in an attempt to buy some extra time for herself, claimed that she was pregnant and could not be executed. It is not clear why she said this. She may have hoped that she might see her son, Pierre, one more time, or at the very least hear some news as to his whereabouts.60 When de Gouges was examined by a doctor from the Tribunal, she was found not to be pregnant and was scheduled to be executed. She was able to write one last letter, and she addressed it to her son. She told Pierre that “I am a victim of my idolatry for the fatherland and for the people.”61 De Gouges was guillotined on November 2, 1793.62 An obituary that appeared in the Moniteur on November 3 said, “Olympe de Gouges, born with an exalted imagination, believed her delusions were inspired by nature. She wanted to be a Statesman; it would seem that the law has punished this plotter for having forgotten the virtues suitable to her own sex.”63 De Gouges had overstepped the boundaries for women at that time by publishing so many works against the government and for repeatedly calling for women’s rights. It is also of interest to note that within days of de Gouges’s death, another feminist, Madame Roland, was also executed.64 While de Gouges was imprisoned, the National Convention voted to make women’s clubs illegal. This vote took place on October 29-30. The main reason given for this decision was that “women are hardly capable of lofty conceptions and serious cogitations.”65 On November 17, Pierre-Gaspard Chaumette, a Jacobin leader, denounced a crowd of women protestors and all political activism on the part of women. He told them that “It is shocking, it is contrary to all the laws of nature” for women to want the same rights as men. He said it was the same as trying to change one’s sex. He used de Gouges as an example of what would happen to them if they continued; “Remember the shameless Olympe de Gouges, who was the first to set up women’s clubs, who abandoned the cares of her household to involve herself in the republic, and whose head fell under the avenging blade of the laws.”66 Olympe de Gouges was executed, not only for her writings, but also because she did not conform to the behavior acceptable for her gender. 7 Olympe de Gouges believed that women should have the same rights as men. She had a flair for writing, and she put that gift to use arguing for her beliefs. Most of her works went unnoticed in her day, but they did garner enough attention to get her into trouble. She had no reservations about criticizing the leadership of the day, and fearlessly stood up for what she thought was right. Because of her defiant and courageous stance on the issues of her time, Olympe de Gouges really was a ground-breaking women’s rights advocate. ENDNOTES 1 Jeremy D. Popkin, A Short History of the French Revolution, 5th ed. (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson, 2010), 52. 2 Shirley Elson Roessler, Out of the Shadows: Women and Politics in the French Revolution, 1789-95. Vol. 14 of Studies in Modern European History, ed. Frank J. Coppa (1996; repr., New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1998), 63. 3 Janie Vanpée, “Performing Justice: The Trials of Olympe de Gouges,” Theatre Journal 51, no. 1 (1999): 50, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25068623 (accessed September 14, 2009). 4 Ibid., 51. 5 Joan Wallach Scott, “French Feminists and the Rights of Man: Olympe de Gouges’s Declarations,” History Workshop, no. 28 (Autumn, 1989): 8, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4288921 (accessed September 11, 2009). 6 Sophie Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution: A Biography of Olympe de Gouges, trans. Joy Poirel (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2007), 10-11. 7 Ibid., 16. 8 Ibid., 17-19. 9 Vanpée, “Performing Justice: The Trials of Olympe de Gouges,” 50-51. 10 Lisa Beckstrand, Deviant Women of the French Revolution and the Rise of Feminism (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2009), 89. 11 Joan B. Landes, Women and the Public Sphere in the Age of the French Revolution (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1988), 126. 12 Olympe de Gouges, “Declaration of the Rights of Women and Citizen & Social Contract,” September 1791, in the Modern History Sourcebook, Fordham, http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/ mod/modsbook.html (accessed September 17, 2009). 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Landes, Women and the Public Sphere in the Age of the French Revolution, 126. 8 16 Olympe de Gouges, “A Female Writer’s Response to the American Champion or a Well– Known Colonist,” January 18, 1790, Center for Modern History, George Mason University, http://chnm.gmu.edu/revolution/d/344/ (accessed September 17, 2009). 17 Landes, Women and the Public Sphere in the Age of the French Revolution, 124. 18 Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 64. 19 Ibid., 125. 20 Olympe de Gouges (1791), quoted in Landes, Women in the Public Sphere in The French Revolution, 127. 21 Janie Vanpée, “La Déclaration des Droits de la Femme et de la citoyenne: Olympe de Gouges’s Re-Writing of La Déclaration des Droits de l’homme,” in Literate Women in the French Revolution of 1789, ed. Catherine Montfort-Howard (Birmingham, AL: Summa Publications, 1994), 68. 22 Ibid. 23 Beckstrand, Deviant Women of the French Revolution and the Rise of Feminism, 76. 24 Olympe de Gouges, “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen,” September 1791, Center for Modern History, George Mason University, http://chnm.gmu.edu/revolution/d/477/ (accessed September 17, 2009). 25 Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 66. 26 Olympe de Gouges, “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen,” September 1791. 28 Olympe de Gouges, “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen,” September 1791. 29 Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution, 67. 30 Olympe de Gouges, “The Declaration of the Rights of Woman and Citizen,” September 1791. 27 Sarah E. Melzer and Leslie W. Rabine, Rebel Daughters: Women and the French Revolution (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1992), 236. 31 “Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen,” August 27, 1789, in P.M. Jones, The French Revolution 1789-1804, part of Seminar Studies in History (London: Pearson Education, Ltd, 2003), 115. 32 Melzer and Rabine, Rebel Daughters, 235. Other prominent proponents of women’s rights included Madame Roland, Etta Palm d’Aelders, and the Marquis de Condorcet. All but d’Aelders would perish during the Reign of Terror. 33 Tableau de Paris, July 1792, quoted in Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 67. 34 Ibid. 35 Olympe de Gouges, “Declaration of the Rights of Women,” quoted in Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution, 63-64. 9 36 Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 65. 37 Vanpée, “Performing Justice: The Trials of Olympe de Gouges,” 51. 38 David W. Del Testa, Florence Lemoine, & John Strickland, “Olympe de Gouges,” in Government Leaders, Military Rulers, and Political Activists: Lives and Legacies (Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing, 2001), 52. http://www.netlibrary.com/Reader/. Net Library (accessed September 19, 2009). 39 Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution, 85-86. 40 Jane Abray, “Feminism in the French Revolution,” American Historical Review 80, no. 1 (February 1975), 59, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1859051 (accessed November 2, 2009). 41 Olympe de Gouges, 1792, quoted in Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 66. 42 Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 67. 43 Olympe de Gouges, 1792, quoted in Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 67. 44 Ibid. 45 Olympe de Gouges, 1792, quoted in Beckstrand, Deviant Women in the French Revolution, 127. 46 Roessler, Out of the Shadows, 67. 47 Olympe de Gouges to National Convention, December 1792, quoted in Winifred Stephens Whale, Women of the French Revolution (London: Chapman & Hill, ltd, 1922), 168, http://www.archive.org/details/cu3194024300109, American Libraries (accessed September 14, 2009). 48 Ibid., 169. 49 Whale, Women of the French Revolution, 169. 50 Olympe de Gouges to National Convention, December 1792, quoted in Whale, Women of the French Revolution, 169. 51 Ibid. 52 Vanpée, “Performing Justice: The Trials of Olympe de Gouges,” 47. 53 Ibid., 48. 54 “The Trial of Olympe de Gouges,” November 1, 1793, in Women in Revolutionary Paris, 1789-1795, ed. Darline Gay Levy, trans. Harriet Branson Applewhite, Mary Durham Johnson (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1981), 255. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid., 256. 57 Ibid. 58 Ibid. 10 59 Olympe de Gouges to Citizen Degouges, November 1793, in Last Letters: Prisons and Prisoners in the French Revolution, 1st American edition, ed. Oliver Blanc, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1987), 131. 60 Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution, 96. 61 Olympe de Gouges to Citizen Degouges, Last Letters, 131. 62 Del Testa, Lemoine, and Strickland, Government Leaders, Military Rulers, and Political Activists, 52. 63 Moniteur, November 1793, quoted in Mousset, Women’s Rights and the French Revolution, 97. 64 Mary Seidman Trouille, Sexual Politics in the Enlightenment: Women Writers Read Rousseau, part of the SUNY Series, The Margins of Literature (Albany, NY: New York State University of New York, 1997), 278, http://www.netlibrary.com /Reader, Net Library (accessed September 18, 2009). 65 “Discussion of Women’s Political Clubs and Their Suppression, October 29-30, 1793,” Center for Modern History, George Mason University, http://chnm.gmu.edu/revolution/d/294/ (accessed September 17, 2009). 66 Pierre-Gaspard Chaumette, “Speech at City Hall Denouncing Women’s Political Activism,” November 17, 1793, Center for Modern History, George Mason University, http://chnm.gmu.edu/revolution/d/489/ (accessed September 17, 2009). ANGEL OF ASSASSINATION: CHAROLOTTE CORDAY AND THE DEATH OF JEAN-PAUL MARAT By Taylor Bowman On July 13, 1793, Marie-Charlotte de Corday, a young and reportedly attractive woman from the Norman town of Caen, drove a large knife through the heart of French Revolutionary leader Jean-Paul Marat, killing him almost instantly.1 Corday viewed Marat as evil incarnate. To her, he was a devil who brought to the originally beneficent Revolution an atmosphere of chaos and of terror. Unless he were destroyed, she thought, all of France would erupt in civil war and be consumed in the fires of a revolution that had moved too far beyond its earliest intents.2 Corday, however, misjudged her victim’s influence. She assumed that, were he eliminated, the Revolution would be undone―terror would cease immediately, and all threat of civil war would abate in a single moment. This was not the case. The Revolution did not expire with Marat, and the National Convention began supporting the Reign of Terror with renewed vigor. Corday failed to restore peace to France, but Marat’s death nonetheless had severe consequences for the Revolution. Following the assassination, the Terror’s harshness made enemies of its former allies and strengthened antiRevolutionary sentiment until Robespierre and other leaders were ultimately removed.3 While her assassination of Marat did not abruptly end the Revolution as she had hoped, Corday’s actions, nevertheless, ignited a chain of events that ultimately occasioned the collapse of the Terror. Charlotte Corday belonged to the petite noblesse. When she reached her adolescence, her father sent her to a convent in Caen, where she received an education befitting a young woman of her status.4 There, she was exposed to the writings of various theologians, scholars, and philosophers, including those of Rousseau and Voltaire (the latter of whom was read without the knowledge and against that mandate of her instructors).5 As she began to mature, Corday developed a fascination with the realm of politics. Highly idealistic, she was an early and enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution. While at the convent, the young woman met and befriended Gustave Doulcet de Pontécoulant, a young lawyer and politician who would later become an important member of the National Convention. Together, they followed the events of the Revolution with unparalleled interest, beginning with the fall of the Bastille on July 14, 1789. It was Doulcet that first informed Corday of the events set in motion by the National Assembly on August 4, and from that time forward, the young lady dreamed of a government and society in which The Rights of Man would be made law.6 Shortly after the completion of her education, Corday took up residence with her aunt Madame de Bretteville, a wealthy and well-respected citizen of Caen. Though often praised for her beauty, Corday expressed little desire for the attentions of men. Her most fervent wish was that she might someday discover a grandiose means by which to aid both France and humanity.7 She was an avid reader of political literature, which, as of September, 1789, included Marat’s 11 12 L’ami du Peuple.8 With this journal, Marat earned the title of “Friend of the People,” and in it, Corday first encountered Marat and his brand of radicalism. She disliked the often violent rhetoric of Marat and his fellow Jacobins, and her exposure to his writings marks the beginning of her disillusionment with the Revolution and its leaders.9 In July, 1790, the Civil Constitution of the Clergy was enacted. Riots erupted throughout rural France, and the church was divided. The outrage with which provincial communities, particularly Caen, reacted to this newlyimplemented legislation seemed evidence to Corday of Parisian abuse and perversion of Revolutionary sentiments. The establishment of the Civil Constitution, to her, revealed the extent to which the Revolution’s most prominent figures hindered the true spirit of their professed cause.10 The deposition of King Louis XVI in 1791 resulted from and contributed to the chaos that had been brewing in Paris since the early moments of the revolution. Following the royal family’s failed escape attempt and subsequent arrest, Marat, by then a prominent figure in the Legislative Assembly, began calling for the king’s execution.11 Corday found the notion repugnant. In the past, she had refused to toast Louis XVI, and she did not nearly possess the same level of Royalist sympathies that is commonly attributed to her. She considered herself a Republican. Nevertheless, she felt that execution would be far too extreme and that such a measure would contradict the humanist values touted by Revolutionary leaders.12 The frequent incendiary speeches made by the Jacobins against the king increased tensions in Paris and bolstered Corday’s increasingly negative opinion of the Revolution. The events of 1792 stifled any of Corday’s hopes that the Revolution might be redeemed. Between September 2 and September 8, Paris prisons were overrun by ardent Jacobins and Sans-Culottes, who, convinced that those being held were potentially dangerous enemies of the Republic, tried and executed everyone found inside.13 An article printed in Revolutions de Paris (a newspaper sympathetic to the vigilantes) read, “The people are human, but without weakness; wherever they detect crime, they throw themselves upon it without regard for the age, sex, or condition of the guilty.”14 Many observers, then and hence, have attributed the brutal actions of the mobs here described to a panic caused by the fall of Verdun to the advancing forces of the Duke of Brunswick. The theory often propagated states that, when Parisians heard of Verdun’s surrender, they were alarmed, knowing that there remained no additional strongholds between their city and the advancing Prussian forces. In their supposed fear and rage, they invaded the prisons and killed all captives.15 While the fear of Brunswick may have motivated some segments of the population, Corday as well as several members of the Legislative Assembly held Marat responsible for inciting (through his journal and through speeches) what came to be known as the Prison Massacres.16 The belief was so strong in the minds of some Assembly members that he was brought before that body to give an account of his actions. Largely due to the backing of several prominent Montagnards, Marat was acquitted, but Corday continued to lay the blame for the Prison Massacres squarely on his shoulders.17 The Revolution had grown bloody, and she identified Marat as the progenitor of its pitiless violence.18 13 By the end of September, the National Convention had replaced the Legislative Assembly as France’s central government. Shortly thereafter, Marat, a recently elected deputy and member of the Montagnard party, renewed his call for the execution of Louis XVI. This time, the call did not go unanswered, and in December of 1792, the former king’s trial began. Regardless of the enthusiasm with which he was defended and regardless of all attempts made to have execution eliminated as a form of punishment, the Convention voted to behead Louis XVI on January 21, 1793. In spite of her previous disillusionment, Corday could not believe the king had been guillotined. Reports indicate that, despite her disdain for the Old Regime, the news of Louis XVI’s death moved the young woman to tears. She saw the execution not only as an affront to the philanthropic ideology of the early Revolution but as breach of authority committed by the Convention.19 This violation she also attributed principally to Marat.20 Corday felt that such misuse of power could not go unpunished and was no longer willing to tolerate the abuses of Marat and the Convention. She began to contemplate her own ability to end the destructive sequence into which the Revolution had fallen, and what transpired in April and June of that year set her on the road to assassination.21 While Corday sat at home in Caen, reading about the latest atrocities committed by the Paris Jacobins, Marat was staging a coup. Since the Prison Massacres, he and his fellow Montagnards had been unable to pass their own agenda through a Convention dominated by Girondins, members of the largest party within the government. Between May 31, and June 2, 1793, Marat took the first steps toward remedying his predicament. In that three-day period, a mob of Sans-Culottes, organized and incited by Marat, marched on the Tuileries and forcibly evicted 22 Girondin deputies from their seats in the Convention. Nearly all of those removed were leading figures within the Gironde, and their expulsion meant the ascendance of the Montagnards to power. Those ousted were escorted from the hall and promptly placed under house arrest. Some managed to escape, but for those who did not, proscription and prison soon followed. Imprisonment invariably led to execution. Those who escaped house arrest, therefore, effected a hasty departure from Paris. Many of them made for Caen. There, Corday, who heard of the overthrow only two days after it occurred and who had been a long-time Girondin sympathizer, eagerly awaited the arrival of the refugees. By June 9, several of the escaped Girondins had reached the Norman town, and almost all of them came prepared with stories of the vile Marat and of the abominations committed by the Montagnards in the name of the Revolution.22 Corday was an eager audience. Among the former deputies then in Caen were Jerome Pétion, Francois Buzot, and Charles Barbaroux, all of whom were figures she recognized from her extensive reading. She had sympathized with them from afar and now had the immense honor of meeting and speaking with them face to face. Furthermore, she detested Marat and never passed on an opportunity to hear him vilified. In that regard, she was not disappointed. The Girondins spoke of endless evil. They told the citizens of Caen about the policy of Terror that had been enacted following the coup and delivered tales of horrendous carnage lately sprung up in Paris. They demonized Marat considerably and reported that the guillotine had already claimed nearly 14 100,000 heads and that the “Friend of the People” had found a cure for his recently contracted ailments in the spilling of human blood.23 Such accounts were doubtless exaggerated, but they fascinated Corday immeasurably. She had, by this time, already hated Marat and, in fact, had already given thought to killing him. For her, the expulsion of the elected Girondin leaders from the National Convention represented a violation of the people’s sovereignty and an intolerable assault on the noble ideas of undiluted liberalism. She despised Marat, and the presence and eloquence of the Girondins further cemented her hatred.24 In the weeks following their arrival, Corday became convinced that direct action against the Convention was needed. Marat would have to be eliminated. While she liked and appreciated the Girondins’ powerfully delivered stories, Corday did not admire the impotence with which they opposed the sitting government. In fact, it disgusted her. On July 7, 1793, General Wimpffen gathered a small group of Girondin sympathizers and attempted to arrange a militant gala, complete with speeches, songs, banners, and a parade. The event was intended to demonstrate solidarity among the Girondins and to rally support behind them. The sparse attendance generated made the gathering a pitiful spectacle and a failure. It embarrassed and distressed Corday, who had already begun to realize that her new friends were incapable of any but a feeble response to the oppressive Convention.25 Two days prior to Wimpffen’s attempted rally, Corday purchased a one-way ticket on a Coach set to leave Caen for Paris on July 9. She had convinced herself that Marat was the source of all that had gone awry with the Revolution and that he must be killed to restore order in France.26 His assassination would be her grandiose gesture for the good of her country and for the betterment of humanity. Prior to purchasing her ticket, Corday went to see Barbaroux at the Hotel de L’Intendance, introducing herself as Marie-Charlotte de Corday. She secured from the former deputy a letter of introduction to Lauze Duperret, a Girondin deputy who, not having been expelled, remained in the Convention and served as an intermediate between Barbaroux and the proscribed Girondins (such as Madame Rolland) who failed to escape imprisonment.27 Upon acquiring a seat on the next coach to Paris, Corday returned home and burned all of her political literature, arranged for the payment of her debts, bequeathed her valuable items to friends and loved ones, and returned all the books she had borrowed. Once her affairs were in order, she made her goodbyes. She told Madame de Bretteville that she would be going to stay with her father in Argentan. Meanwhile, she wrote a letter to her father, explaining that she planned on taking a trip to England.28 Thus she traveled to Paris on the morning of July 9 without the knowledge of friends or family. Corday arrived in Paris on July 12, 1793. She sought out Duperret and gave him the letter of introduction she had received from Barbaroux. She wanted to kill Marat publicly, preferably during a meeting of the Convention, and she asked Duperret how she would go about gaining entrance into a Convention session. Duperret seemed willing to arrange for her admittance, but Corday soon learned that Marat no longer attended Convention meetings. He had, prior to the coup, contracted a debilitating skin condition that had worsened in severity 15 to such an extent that he was forced to remain at home.29 This discovery momentarily disappointed Corday, but shortly thereafter, she discovered that, while he was not the leader he had been formerly, he remained active and continued to conduct Convention business despite his lack of mobility.30 Corday remained convinced that the key to peace lay in the death of Marat, so she resolved to pay him a visit on the following morning and to accomplish her task at that time. Corday arose at 6:00 on the morning of July 13. Her first destination was the Palais Royal, where she intended to purchase the tools necessary for the task that lay ahead of her. In her zeal, she arrived before any of the shops were yet open for business, so she was obliged to wait, which she did with little patience. When the vendors had arrived, Corday began her search. Ultimately, she purchased her knife from a Monsieur Badin for two francs. Its blade was six inches in length, and its handle was ebony. The young woman concealed her purchase in the bosom of her dress and went to secure a coach.31 When she arrived at Marat’s home in the Rue des Cordeliers, she was greeted by his common law wife Simmone Evrard, who turned her away. Corday explained that she had come to give Marat information about an underground Girondist movement, but Evrard insisted that the Revolutionary leader was in no condition to receive guests.32 Nonplussed, Corday retreated, but she returned around 7:30 in the evening, after having sent a letter to Marat explaining the purpose of her visit. This time, Marat ensured that she received an audience with him.33 Corday was shocked by what she encountered. She was escorted to Marat’s quarters, where she found the villainous Montagnard sitting in a shoe-shaped tub with a vinegar-soaked towel wrapped around his head. Warm baths were the only proven method of soothing his painful skin condition, and the towel had been contrived as a method of counteracting his frequent headaches.34 Corday wasted little time. As soon as she and her unsuspecting victim were alone, she began telling him of a fabricated Girondin conspiracy, naming several of the Girondins she had come to know in the past month. Upon Marat’s response that those named would soon be guillotined, Corday pulled the knife from her dress and, with a single thrust, drove it into his heart up to the handle.35 Her blow was astonishingly accurate. The blade pierced Marat’s heart and left lung, rendering him lifeless in a matter of seconds.36 Corday was hindered when attempting to leave Marat’s apartment by a man (one of Marat’s close friends) who purportedly struck her with a chair. News of her deed spread almost instantly, and the scene on the street quickly grew tumultuous. Charles Henri Sanson, Public Executioner for the Convention, recorded the following conversation among Parisians just a few minutes after the assassination: ‘Who [killed Marat]?’ ‘A woman.’ ‘Has she been arrested?’ Some said, ‘no’ with an air of delight. Others said, ‘yes’ and fell silent again. One inquired discreetly if the wound was mortal. ‘Where was he struck?’ ‘Below the collar bone, between two ribs.’ ‘Was it a bullet?’ ‘No. A knife driven into his lungs to the full length of the blade.’ ‘Plague on it! She must have struck hard.’ 37 16 Within seconds of Marat’s death, the police were called for. In just a few minutes’ time, they arrived amid a growing mass of men and women that had begun to congregate outside the home of the dead Marat.38 Corday was taken into custody immediately. The police did not even wait to remove her from Marat’s apartment before subjecting her to a rigorous questioning process. Jaques-Philibert Guellard, police superintendant of the district, set up a desk in one of the rooms adjacent to the crime scene and, less than an hour after the assassination, had Corday brought in for interrogation.39 She admitted her crime from the outset of his inquiry.40 He asked her where she had purchased her knife and if she had received the aid of any accomplices, to which she replied that she had been to the Palais Royal the day before. She denied ever having accomplices. All present for the interrogation were impressed by the young woman’s calm and dignified comportment. To many it did not seem possible that she had so recently committed an act of homicide. In his report, Guellard wrote, “Guellard: Asked her if, after having accomplished the crime, she had not tried to escape by the window. Corday: Replied no, she had no intention of escaping by the window, but she would have gone out by the door if she had not been stopped.”41 When all police reports had been assembled, Corday was asked if she would like to alter any of her testimony. She replied that she would not and signed her confession.42 Her trial was set for July 7, 1793. It would be a mere formality; she had no hope of acquittal. The people of Paris considered Marat a martyr. Songs and hymns comparing him to Christ were sung in mourning throughout the streets of Paris.43 The famous French painter Jacques-Louis David was commissioned to paint a portrait of the dead Marat and was given charge of funeral arrangements. David’s desire (as well as that of the Convention) was to further perpetuate the image of Marat as a saint who had given his life for the Revolution. To this end, David decided to display Marat’s body on a large bed with a damp sheet concealing everything below the waist (this hid Marat’s decaying flesh and combated putrefaction) and a crown of oak leaves on the dead man’s head. Flowers were strewn across the bed, and Marat’s chest was left bare to fully display the knife-wound.44 Devoted to this image of the slain Marat, the citizens of Paris developed vehement hatred for Corday. An article in the Gazette Nationale, published just one week after her assassination of Marat, characterized Corday as “a remarkable example of the seal of reprobation with which nature stamps those women who renounce the temperament, the character, the tastes and the inclination of their sex.”45 Most of Paris seems to have held this opinion, but Corday’s trial and execution would win her the admiration of many, including her accusors. In her last days, Corday expressed little fear of her fate. On July 15, she wrote to the Convention, saying, “Since I have only a few minutes to live, might I hope, citizens, that you would allow me to have my portrait painted.”46 Citizen Haüer, an artist she had observed in the courtroom, was sent to her the following day.47 Anticipating the trial ahead of her and recognizing the reality of its predetermined outcome, she wrote a letter to her father in Argentan. It read as follows: 17 Forgive me, my dear papa, for disposing of my life without your permission. I have avenged many innocent victims. I have prevented many another disaster. The people will one day be disabused and rejoice at being delivered from such a tyrant…I beg you to forget me, or rather to rejoice at my fate, its cause is a fine one.48 In a letter to Barbaroux written that same day, she said, “Goodbye, citizen, I ask all true friends of peace to remember me.”49 Corday’s courageous acceptance of her fate so evident in these letters was also clearly visible in her demeanor at trial. She endured the testimony of Simmone Evrard and others present on that evening as well as the questioning of her prosecutors without showing even the least sign of becoming unnerved. When offered the services of a priest, she gently replied that she had no sins to confess and then politely thanked the Tribunal for its courtesy. Her apparent tranquility was nearly impossible for her judges to comprehend. On two separate occasions, they had a doctor examine her for signs of sexual immorality—the thinking was that only a truly depraved woman could commit such a violent act with so little remorse. Examination confirmed her virginity.50 When she was marched to execution on July 17, her resolve remained immutable. A German historian at the scene, identified in his writings only as Klause, was mesmerized by the sight of Corday approaching the guillotine. In a description of her execution, he recorded, “Already half transfigured, [Corday] seemed like an angel of light…she approached the death machine and, of her own accord, placed her head on the appointed spot…solemn silence reigned. The fatal blade fell…thus ended Charlotte Corday, the sublime maiden of Caen.”51 Marat was dead and Corday executed for his assassination. Despite the optimism of her letters, however, the young woman had not succeeded in ending the Revolution or the Convention’s policy of Terror. She had, in fact, inspired the Convention to impose harsher restrictions on the people of France. Nevertheless, her shadow and that of her actions loomed over France for the next year as an era began in which the Revolution began to consume its founders.52 In the wake of Marat’s assassination, Jacque Roux and Theophile Leclerc continued publication of L’ami du Peuple and, in it, caustically criticized the Convention for its inability to adequately address counter-revolutionary efforts. Along with other Sans-Culotte leaders, the pair of enragés called for a more stringent enforcement of the Terror. Jacques Hébert, another prominent Sans-Culotte radicalized his publication Pére Duchesne, and the Convention began conceding to many Sans-Culotte demands.53 The fact that a woman from Caen could ride into Paris and assassinate one of the foremost leaders of the Revolution was alarming, and many Convention leaders feared that they would be targeted next.54 Measures must be taken to counteract potential resistance. Corday’s was the first truly sensational public trial conducted by the Tribunal, but more soon followed.55 Between July 14 and 28, eight previously unsuspected deputies faced accusation for having aided Corday, and a series of repressive acts were passed in the following months. Between July 30 and August 6, several other deputies were exiled or brought before the tribunal, 18 and the number of those proscribed rose to fifty-five.56 On September 17, the Law of Suspects was passed, encouraging all French citizens to spy on their neighbors for the sake of the Convention. This led the number of those guillotined to escalate dramatically.57 Women were also beginning to trouble many Convention deputies who began to view the female sex as inherently problematic. Within the next few months, Marie Antoinette, Olympe de Gouges, and Madame Roland were all executed. Their trials, like Corday’s, were highly public and theatrical. On November 5, 1793, women’s political associations and public gatherings were banned as well as their admittance into men’s clubs.58 Violence and repression continued to grow in spite of a growing popular distaste for it. On October 31, 1793, twenty-one Girondins were convicted of crimes against the Republic and sentenced to death by guillotine. One official present for the event wrote, “Sillery was executed first. Those that followed him displayed a villainous courage…The execution proceeded at such a vigorous pace that several heads rolled down the scaffold at once…I noticed when it came to the sixth to be executed, many of the onlookers began to walk away with sad expressions and in the greatest consternation.”59 This journal entry clearly betrays a growing dislike among Parisians for the guillotine and for public executions, but despite mounting popular disdain for these events, brutality continued well into 1794. As the Terror became even more stringent, anyone associated with former governments or around whom stories circulated was put to death.60 Distrust was omnipresent, even within the Montagnard party, and the Terror, with its remorseless cruelty, could not ultimately sustain itself. The aggressively chaotic nature of the Terror ignited by Corday’s assassination of Marat persisted until July 27, 1794. On that day, Maximillian Robespierre, who had (in the wake of Marat’s murder) brought his Committee of Public Safety to the leading position within the National Convention, accused his fellow Committee members of plotting against him. In response, several members of the Committee turned against Robespierre, put him on trial, and executed him via guillotine. Those who participated in the overthrow received the favor of the people, who saw their actions as an important step away from Terror and toward a return of normal and stable government. 61 Corday’s desire, it seemed, had finally come to fruition. The assassination failed to destroy the Terror, but the chaos that sprang from it ultimately accomplished her goal. The Revolution would continue for several years after the fall of Robespierre, but the Terror had reached its end. ENDNOTES 1 Hugh Gough, The Terror in the French Revolution (London: Macmillian Press, Ltd., 1998), 82. 2 Marie Scherr, Charlotte Corday and Certain Men of the Revolutionary Torment (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1929), 121-122. 3 Gough, Terror in the French Revolution, 36; Louis R. Gottschalk, Jean Paul Marat: A Study in Radicalism (New York: Benjamin Blom, 1966), 190-191. 19 Halina Sokolnikova, Nine Women Drawn From the Epoch of the French Revolution, translated by H.C. Stevens (New York: Jonathan Cape and Harrison Smith, 1932), 36; J. Mills Whitham, Men and Women of the French Revolution (Freeport, New York: Books for Libraries, Inc., 1968), 155. 4 5 Sokolnikova, Nine Women, 37-38. 6 Whitham, Men and Women, 155-156. 7 Ibid., 157-158. 8 Stanley Loomis, Paris in the Terror, June 1793-July1794 (Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott Company, 1964), 99; Cynthia Burlingham and James Cuno, “Catalogue of the Exhibition: VII. Marat,” French Caricature and the French Revolution, 1789-1799 ed. James Cuno (Los Angeles: UCLA, 1988), 220. Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 99. 9 10 Whitham, Men and Women, 159. 11 Burlingham and Cuno, “Catalogue of the Exhibition,” 220. 12 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 103. 13 Ibid.,73; Laura Mason and Tracey Rizzo, The French Revolution: A Document Collection (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1999), 174. 14 “Article on the events of September 1-8, 1792,” Revolutions de Paris no. 165 (September 1792), trans. Laura Mason, quoted in Laura Mason and Tracey Rizzo, The French Revolution: A Document Collection (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1999), 174. 15 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 73; Mason and Rizzo, The French Revolution, 174. 16 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 98. 17 Ibid.; Burlingham and Cuno, “Catalogue of the Exhibition,” 220. 18 Witham, Men and Women, 160. 19 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 103. 20 Witham, Men and Women, 160. 21 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 103. 22 Ibid, 12-13; Burlingham and Cuno, “Catalogue of the Exhibition,” 225. 23 Sokolnikova, Nine Women, 35-36. 24 Ibid., 40. 25 Ibid.; Whitham, Men and Women, 168; Paul R. Hanson, The Jacobin Republic Under Fire: The Federalist Revolt in the French Revolution (University Park, Pennsylvania: Penn State University Press, 2003), 197. 20 26 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 111. 27 Ibid., 109. 28 Ibid., 110-111; Whitham, Men and Women, 169. 29 Sokolnikova, Nine Women, 48. 30 Ernest Belfort Bax, Jean-Paul Marat: The People’s Friend (London: Grant Richards, 1901), 300. 31 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 121; Whitham, Men and Women, 173. 32 Sokolnikova, Nine Women, 49. 33 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 126-127. 34 Bax, Jean-Paul Marat, 300. 35 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 130. 36 Whitham. Men and Women, 176. 37 Charles Henri Sanson, “Recollection of a Conversation Concerning the Murder of Marat,” Personal Diary (13 July 1793), quoted in Reay Tanahill, ed., Paris in the Revolution: A Collection of Eye Witness Accounts (London: The Folio Society, 1966), 82. 38 Scherr, Charlotte Corday, 125. 39 Tanahill, Paris in the Revolution: A Collection of Eye Witness Accounts, 82. 40 Scherr, Charlotte Corday, 125. 41 Jacques-Philibert Guilard, Report Filed on the Events of Marat’s Murder (13 July 1793) quoted in Tanahill, ed., Paris in the Revolution: A Collection of Eye Witness Accounts, 84. 42 Scherr, Charlotte Corday, 127. 43 Gottschalk, Jean Paul Marat, 187. 44 Antoine de Baecque, Glory and Terror: Seven Deaths Under the French Revolution trans. Charlotte Mandell (New York: Routelage, 2003), 6. 45 Fabre d’Eglantine, “Article on Charlotte Corday,” Gazette Nationale (20 July 1793), quoted in Nina Corazzo and Catherine R. Montfort, “Charlotte Corday: femme-homme,” Literate Women of the French Revolution of 1789 (Birmingham: Summa Publications, 1994), 33-54, 35-36. 46 Marie-Charlotte de Corday, “Letter to the Committee of General Safety” (15 July 1793), quoted in Olivier Blanc, Last Letters: Prisons and Prisoners of the French Revolution, 1793-1794, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: The Noonday Press, 1987), 11. 47 Blanc, Last Letters: Prisons and Prisoners of the French Revolution, 1793-1794, 12. 48 Marie-Charlotte de Corday, “Final Letter to her Father” (16 July 1793), quoted in Blanc, Last Letters: Prisons and Prisoners of the French Revolution, 1793-1794, 12. 21 Marie-Charlotte de Corday, “Final Letter to Citizen Barbaroux” (16 July 1793), quoted in Scherr, Charlotte Corday and Certain Men of the Revolutionary Torment, 130. 49 50 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 140-141; Witham, Men and Women, 183. 51 Klause, “Reflections on the Execution of Charlotte Corday,” Personal Diary (17 July 1793), quoted in Tanahill, Paris in the Revolution: A Collection of Eye Witness Accounts, 86. 52 Tanahill, Paris in the Revolution, 85. 53 Gough, Terror in the French Revolution, 36. 54 Gottschalk, Jean Paul Marat, 188. 55 Loomis, Paris in the Terror, 245. 56 Gottschalk, Jean Paul Marat, 189-190. 57 Gough, Terror in the French Revolution, 82. 58 Caroline Webber, Terror and its Discontents: Suspect Words in Revolutionary France (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2003), 105. 59 “Account of the October 31 Execution,” (October 1793), Quoted in Blanc, Last Letters: Prisons and Prisoners of the French Revolution, 1793-1794, 65. 60 Blanc, Last Letters, 65. 61 Gottschalk, Jean Paul Marat, 190-191. REFLECTIONS OF THE REVOLUTION: A STUDY OF PAINTINGS BY JACQUES-LOUIS DAVID By Megan Hensley The period of the 1790s was very eventful and turbulent in French history. During these years, the country suffered from the French Revolution, which brought rapid and dramatic change to the country. Many suffered through the chaos, but a few, such as Jacques-Louis David, were able to harness the emotion and focus the energy into art. David, a neoclassical painter, played a very significant role in the Revolution. He was not only an artist, but he also worked as pageant-master, giving him a degree of power. In his work, which was some of the best from this period, he attempted to capture history in his paintings and create a chronicle of the time. As the Revolution developed, David’s paintings changed dramatically, reflecting the changing spirit of the Revolution. David was born in Paris in 1748, a time when the French monarchy seemed unshakable. Yet, in his life time, he saw not only the fall of the monarchy, but the beheading of the king. France in the late eighteenth century was struggling financially. The country had undergone the luxurious reign of Louis XIV, had fought in wars, and had suffered through years of financial advisors possessing lofty ideas that always failed. While the country was struggling, David was flourishing. In 1774, he won the Prix de Rome, a prize allowing him to go to Rome, which he had fought to win for four years.1 This sent the young painter to Italy, where he thrived, immersed in classical art. He developed his skills as a neoclassical painter, and his work for years to come reflected the Roman images. He returned to France, after a five year stay in Rome, and found the country still struggling financially. Even so, the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture (the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture), which was the institution that had sent David to Rome, was still commissioning art. Because of his achievements in the Salons, which were art shows commissioned by the Academy, he was propelled into being acknowledged as one of the most talented artists in France. David’s reputation led him to being accepted into some of the most elite circles in Parisian society, and it allowed him to make contacts with foreign visitors.2 By the time of the Salon of 1789, France had politically and economically reached its breaking point, and David was one of the most revered painters in Paris.3 David, on a commission, crafted a large painting for the Salon of 1789. Entitled, The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of his Sons (fig. 1), the painting was David’s second to be entered into that year’s Salon and was much more controversial than the first.4 His other exhibitions were commissioned privately, unlike Brutus, which was commissioned by the Royal Academy.5 Brutus was not the subject that the King’s government or the Academy expected. In 1787, David proposed to submit a painting to the Salon of 1789 and it was determined that he would paint “Coriolanus being restrained by his family from seeking revenge.” However, there is no evidence that David ever began work on this painting. Instead, he began the sketches for Brutus and spent the next two years very involved in completing it. In doing this, he was committing a blatant act 22 23 of defiance and created a symbol of liberty and republican ideas. As David was finishing his painting, the Estates-General was meeting, allowing the three Estates (the Clergy, the Nobility, and the common men) to discuss problems and come up with possible solutions for the failing economy. This showed a decline in the power in the monarchy, as the king had to come up with solutions with the people. Because of this tension, his subject choice became controversial.6 The painting depicts Lucius Junius Brutus. He had helped rid Rome of the tyranny of the king, Tarquin the Proud. The empire was in need of new leadership after the king’s son, raped Lucretia, who then committed suicide. Her death was witnessed by both Collatinus and Brutus, who vowed to avenge her death by destroying the corrupt monarchy. After expelling Tarquin, they created the first Roman Republic in 508 BC. Not long after Figure 1: The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of his Sons the creation of the Republic, Brutus’ sons, Titus and Tiberius were pulled into a plot to restore the monarchy. The conspiracy was soon discovered by their father, who was forced to sentence them to death.7 Using changes in light and lines, David breaks the painting into three sections. First, on the left and in the background, the lictors are carrying the bodies of the dead. Though they are mostly illuminated and had harsh lines, both of which draw in the viewer’s eye, the scene is fading into the darkness.8 Original sketches of the painting show severed heads on spikes. This image was taken out of the final piece, as David felt it took from the subtle nature of the representation of bodies being carried.9 The middle-ground of the painting, which is shown on the right side, depicts the image of the women mourning the deaths of Titus and Tiberius. Unlike most of the painting, the women are fully catching the light, becoming a focal point.10 The blatant emotion of the women is shown in their expression and body language. The women cling to one another in a manifestation of grief and anguish. Brutus’ wife calls the attention of the painting’s audience with her outstretched hand, which creates an implied line directly to the bodies of her dead sons. Along with using light to create distinction between the sections, David also uses lines. The women are drawn more undulated than the background or foreground. Here, the images are flowing and have a rise and fall to the lines, unlike the harsh, defined lines of the dead. This technique is common in David’s work: he created contrast in men and women by making the men appear strong, while the women appeared soft. An empty chair in this section separates the dead sons and Brutus from the women, who represent the domestic, family life of which the men will never be able to return.11 The last section of the painting is Brutus himself. Seated in the foreground and to the left, he is almost completely in shadows except for a sliver of light shining on his feet. His face, barely visible in the darkness, is somber and tense. His toes are gnarled and stiff, showing the tension in his body as the 24 repercussion of his actions are shown. His body is turned away from the lictors carrying his sons. Again, David uses line to create contrast: Brutus’ section is marked by nervous, quick lines, unlike the flowing lines of the women or the harsh lines of the dead. This depicts a nervous energy in Brutus. He chose the Republic over his family, and his suppressing the emotion that comes with it.12 This painting, like most of David’s early work, was a symbol of Roman patriotism. It showed the conflict between love of state and love of family. Brutus put his loyalty in the state, sacrificing his sons. This type of extreme patriotism was mirrored to the events of the start of the French Revolution. Brutus had an unwavering, dedicated devotion to the state, to the point of doing anything to remain loyal. The attitude of the Third-Estate was reaching this level. Instead of being faithful to the monarchy, as was common years before, loyalties were shifting toward the state and national pride. The image of Brutus shows the tension that can be created in reforming government. Because of the symbolism in the painting, and the fact that it was exhibited during a radical time of French history, it was quickly adapted as a symbol that strongly advocates the ideas of republic and revolution in the troubled world.13 Because of this, when the news of the subject of the painting came out, it was met with resistance. The Academy saw the image as bad propaganda against the monarchy at a time when the King needed as much support as he could get, especially from an influential man such as David. Because of the negative sparks the painting produced, the newspapers were soon reporting that the government was not allowing the painting to be shown. Because the tensions were so high in France, the public outcry was phenomenal, and soon the officials were forced to give in. In the end, not only was the painting shown, but it was protected by David’s art students.14 The year of 1789 proved to be an eventful one. After the Third Estate realized they were not going to be treated fairly in the Estates-General, they decided to call themselves, along with some members of the clergy, the National Assembly. The group was forced to meet in a tennis court in order to discuss their position. On June 20, 1789, they decreed “that all members of this assembly immediately take a solemn oath never to separate, and to reassemble wherever circumstances require, until the constitution of the realm is established and fixed upon solid foundations; and that said oath having been sworn, all members and each one individually confirm this unwavering resolution with his Figure 2: Tennis Court Oath 25 signature.15 This event was known as the Tennis Court Oath. The men did craft a constitution for France, and when it was clear that the Oath was a momentous event, they commissioned David to paint it. David, who was very intrigued by the idea of capturing history into his paintings as it happened, readily accepted.16 He began, as always, by creating a sketch of what he wanted the final image to look like. The sketch, an ink and pen drawing, of the Tennis Court Oath (fig. 2) is enormous.17 The sketch shows 629 citizens, though David wanted there to be at least a thousand in the final product. Because David captured the image from the width of the tennis court as opposed to the length, he created tension that would not be there otherwise. In the middle of the drawing, JeanSylvain Bailly, the president of the Assembly stands reading the proclamation that they had created. Men and a few women peer in through the windows above the scene. A lightning bolt strikes in one of the windows, aimed toward the raised hand of Bailly, as if he were a lightning rod. This is to show the charged energy of the men as they give their oath to the President.18 The image shows the men positioned in poses that were almost theatrically dramatic. Many were reaching toward the middle, pledging their allegiance to the Assembly. Others were lifting their hats toward the ceiling. Robespierre, who later becomes very influential to both David and the Revolution, was included in the painting. Placed slightly to the right, he clutches his hands to his chest. Even this early in the Revolution, David saw Robespierre as a passionate revolutionary. These reactions show the passion that was involved in the creation of the constitution. The men were fervent about the revolutionary ideas and were dedicated to forming a better, reformed government. Brutus showed the French the importance of a republic. The Tennis Court Oath showed the joyful reaction of the men as the idea of a republic becomes closer to reality and truly captured the spirit of the moment.19 It was intended for the painting to be completely for the Salon of 1791, the first Revolutionary Salon. However, by 1791, only the sketch and a very small portion of the painting were finished. These years had proved to be very turbulent and situations were changing rapidly. Because of the turmoil of the time, by 1791, David was unsure if he would ever finish the painting. As the Revolution had developed, men had changed. The Tennis Court Oath was meant to show the lofty idea of fraternity of the National Assembly, but by 1791, the group had broken into sects and the men were no longer bonded as they once were. Now, some of the men that were deemed heroes at the time of the Oath were now seen in a much more negative light. Some men, even men within the same political groups, no longer saw the Tennis Court Oath as the best course of action, though it was unclear in what they would have done alternatively.20 Many of the men that David included in the preliminary sketches were part of the elite middle class. By 1792, the Revolution was attempting to embrace the lower class citizens and give them the rights they deserved after years of oppression. By completing the work, David’s loyalties would be questioned, and it would put him in a dangerous position. David was determined to capture history as it happened, and vowed to finish the work in the course of the next few years, hoping the country would become more stable. However, the enormous work, the final canvas measuring nineteen by thirty feet, was never completed.21 26 The tension in France continued to build. By 1792, the country had gone from a monarchy, to the National Assembly, to the Legislative Assembly, and the National Convention had just been formed. An influential journalist, Jean Paul Marat, nominated David to the National Convention on September 6, 1792. The two men, both of whom were part of the Jacobin club of thought, were against the tyranny of the monarchy and supported the republican ideas. They were for the will of the people being honored above all else, especially supporting the poor and oppressed.22 Another man, Maximilen Robespierre, was becoming more and more powerful by controlling the Committee of Public Safety. David found himself aligning with the radical ideas of Robespierre. By 1792, David was a willing and active member of the Jacobin dictatorship. David became further involved and caught up in the Revolution, and further attached to Robespierre, who he idealized greatly.23 Also in this year, David decided to resign from the Academy. He felt as though he, and other artists, were being suppressed by the institution that obviously veered toward Royalist ideas. Without the powerful persona of David backing it, the Academy lost a great deal of support. Not long after his resignation, the institution was suspended because its loyalties were clearly to the monarch. Getting rid of an institution that had existed for many years showed not only the influence of David under Robespierre, but also the changing spirit of the country.24 The members of the Committee of Public Safety, which was created in April, 1793, had been elected by the National Convention. When the Committee was restructured in July of that year, Robespierre was elected as one of the twelve members. Because France was in a state of war, the Committee became a very powerful de facto government, meaning that it had executive rights, including the power to execute. Robespierre quickly became the dominate force of the Committee. David, though not a direct member of the Committee, was very good friends with Robespierre and was a member of the National Convention and later a member of the Committee of Public Security, thus had quite a bit of power. So much in fact, that he voted for the death of the King. Because of David’s artistic skills and creativity, he became pageant-master, and was in charge of planning events, ranging from parties to funerals. He was also in charge of most of the propaganda of the Committee, including the painting that captured the death of Marat.25 Marat was viewed as one of the most influential men involved in the Revolution. He was a deputy of the Convention and was often violent. He had developed a skin disease and the only relief he had was from soaking in the bathtub. This is where he was on the evening of July 13, 1793, working on the desk top that had been erected. Charlotte Corday, a closet royalist from Caen, entered the house under the pretense of speaking to Marat about criminals, secret royalists in her home town. She stood beside the tub and read a list of names of those who had been deemed enemies of France. As he thanked her and told her they would be executed within the week, she pulled a kitchen knife out from her skirts. She then reached forward and stabbed him in the chest, fatally. Corday was arrested soon after and executed on July 17.26 David, a good friend of Marat, saw him as a model of “virtue.”27 On July 14, David was invited into the Convention to discuss the funeral arrangements 27 and was asked to paint Marat’s portrait. David accepted this task readily. The men thought that by painting a close likeness of the dead, they were bringing the spirit closer to them, one last time. The image, however, came out idealized as Marat’s body had already begun to decompose. Also, David had a limited time to complete the piece, and his emotions were running high. These factors created the painting Death of Marat (fig. 3).28 The painting depicts a dying Marat. He is bent over, right arm slid to the ground. His head is resting heavily on his shoulder, and his eye lids are drooping. Though Marat was an older Figure 3: Death of Marat man, David showed his body as still being youthful and healthy. A deep, red wound is on his chest, directly below his clavicle and a bloody knife is lying on the floor beneath him. His left hand holds the list of criminals that Corday had brought him, stained in his blood. Because of the muted colors and the lack of decoration of the room, the blood stands out vividly. The rest of the painting is simple. The light cuts in, falling very softly on Marat’s face and shoulders, and more harshly on Corday’s petition. A crate stands beside the bathtub, with the words “À Marat, David” on the side.29 The angle at which David presents Marat’s body allows the viewer to somehow look down on and straight at the image at the same time. Symbolically, this gives Marat both sympathy and respect.30 Death of Marat was used the next year, when Robespierre’s regime executed hundreds, as propaganda for the republic. The painting symbolized a martyr, a fallen man that had been dedicated to only helping the people. David’s painting was copied and distributed, as the Committee knew that the haunting image cast a horrible glow on the royalists.31 Though Robespierre and his Committee of Public Safety attempted to control France for the so called good of the people, movements began to form against them, most focusing on Robespierre. The Committee, along with the Committee of General Security that David had been elected to, was policing the nation in a very harsh, uncontrollable manner. Many men were being executed on a daily basis. Finally, events hit a breaking point. After Robespierre’s speech on Thermidor (August) 8 in which he announced that there was a plot against public liberty, it was clear his time was running short. The members of the Convention were unsure as to who the conspirators were, some claiming it was Robespierre himself. A meeting of the Jacobins that night led to Robespierre announcing that if they could not deliver the Convention from those trying to take it, he would drink hemlock. David, rushing forward with emotion, declared “If you drink the hemlock I will drink it with you.”32 The next day, David, who was not feeling well, missed the meeting of the Convention. This most likely saved his life from ending immediately by guillotine. On Thermidor 10, the day following the meeting, Robespierre was executed. Over eighty of his followers 28 were executed in the next few days. David was arrested on the 15th of the month.33 While in prison, David flourished artistically. Here, his work was not being interrupted by the political demands he had before. This time, from his arrest in August to his release at the end of 1795, is known as one of the most fruitful of his career. In prison he learned the story of the Sabine Women, and had begun sketches for a painting by the end of 1795. His urge to start the painting was so strong that in 1796, he deserted another project in favor of the Intervention of the Sabine Women (fig. 4).34 In the early days of Roman history, the Romans abducted the daughters of their Figure 4: Intervention of the Sabine Women neighbors, the Sabines. The Sabines, in return, attacked Rome. However, Hersilia, the daughter of the Sabine leader Tatius had married the Roman leader, Romulus. Because of this, the attack was delayed. David’s painting Intervention of the Sabine Women depicts Hersilia standing between her father and her husband, arms outstretched, and it is clear that battle had been going on behind them. This painting marks David’s return to the classical iconology he captured prior to the Revolution. In this, he was turned to go back to the “source.” He was determined to capture the artistic principles of the Greeks. Though his subject was Roman, as before, his style was Greek.35 Just as the Greeks painted their heroes and gods, David decided to make his warriors nude. This was his attempt to strip away the unnecessary and leave only what was simply needed. In the painting, Hersilia and the other Sabine Women appear to be practically bursting from in between the warriors. They, along with several small children, dominate the middle of the painting. Hersilia captures the attention of the audience as she stands, arms outstretched, in a white garment. Unlike his Tennis Court Oath, this painting only suggests the presence of hundreds of men by showing only the tops of their spears. Unlike earlier paintings, such as Brutus, David mutes his colors, allowing the vivid red he frequently utilized before to only be used sparingly. The majority of the painting is done in bronze tones, under a cloudy sky with just a hint of bright blue. Also unlike Brutus, he limits the effects of shadowing and chiaroscuro, a term meaning contrast of light and dark. The majority of the painting is washed in light, and it highlights the Sabine Women.36 David completed the image, one of his largest paintings, in 1799. Though the painting is stylistically different from his other work, the major difference is that this painting represents reconciliation over destruction and love over war. The painting depicts a battle, but the two sides are not fighting. The Sabine Women are blocking the two sides from one another, forcing the battle to stop. The women represent love, and are trying to pull the Romans and the 29 Sabines together. Unlike other paintings, such as Brutus, the painting shows no death. Also, David is no longer stressing the importance of a republic as he did in previous paintings. Instead, he is simply making the statement that love conquers all.37 The painting, like most of David’s work, represents the state of France at the time. By the end of the 1790s, the French were growing tired of fighting with one another. They had seen many governments come and go, and most were grieving the loss of at least one loved one. The French were at war with themselves, forcing some in the position of Hersilia in the painting: stuck between two people they cared about, fighting one another. People were willing to go to extremes in order to stop the fighting. The painting represents the change in the French spirit. Unlike the enthusiastic Tennis Court Oath which pushed for a Republic above all else, this painting sought for reconciliation and a stop to the violence. Unlike the Death of Marat and others, this painting was not commissioned as propaganda. This was David’s interpretation of the physiological state of the country. He felt the urgent need to complete the Intervention of the Sabine Women in hopes of resolution. This painting also depicts women in a much stronger manner than the majority of David’s work. Typically, as in Brutus, women are shown in a weak manner. Now, women are the ones stepping forward in order to end the chaos of war.38 David attempted to capture the spirit of the French Revolution through his paintings. The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of his Sons, one of his early works, depicts the feelings of France just before the Revolution began. This painting idealizes the Roman Republic, and shows that man should be willing to put the republic above all else. It shows a desperate attempt to create a republic, even at the death of loved ones. The Tennis Court Oath gives the audience an inside view of the forming of the National Assembly. The images of men are enthusiastic and emotional, excited over what is to come. This sketch is a very realistic portrayal of the feelings of the event. Death of Marat is unlike the others, in that it is a symbol of propaganda for Robespierre’s regime. Instead of directly capturing the state of France in the manner of those before it, this painting was used to spark emotion in its audience. It depicts the pain and suffering that comes in the Revolution, and gives the Royalists a very negative image. Finally, the Intervention of the Sabine Women shows the feelings of France towards the end of the Revolution. The people had grown tired during the constantly changing government and most were mourning the loss of loved ones. This painting inspires a calm ending to the war, with love prevailing over the fury. Each piece depicts the feeling of France at the time it was created. David’s work, as these paintings exhibit, mirrors the changing spirit of the Revolution. ENDNOTES 1 Hubertus Kohle, “The Road from Rome to Paris: The Birth of a Modern Neoclassicism,” Dorothy Johnson, ed. Jacques-Louis David: New Perspectives (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2006), 71-72. 30 2 Philippe Bordes, “Jacques-Louis David’s Anglophilia on the Eve of the French Revolution,” The Burlington Magazine 134, no. 1073 (August, 1992): 482-483, http://www.jstor.org/stable/885156 (accessed October 21, 2009). 3 David Lloyd Dowd, Pageant-Master of the Republic: Jacques-Louis David and the French Revolution (Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries Press, 1969), 6-19. 4 Jacques-Louis David, The Lictors Bring Brutus the Bodies of his Son, 1789, The Louvre Museum, Paris. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:David_Brutus.jpg (Accessed May 1, 2010) The full title of this work is J Brutus, First Consul, returned to his house after having condemned his two sons who had allied themselves with the Tarquin and conspired against Roman liberty; the lictors return their bodies so that they may be given burial, but it is rarely seen in full. 5 Simon Lee, David (London: Phaidon Press Limited, 1999), 116-119. 6 Warren Roberts, Jacques-Louis David, Revolutionary Artist: Art, Politics, and the French Revolution (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1989), 33. 7 Lee, David, 116-121. 8 Luc de Nanteuil, Jacques-Louis David, The Library of Great Painters (New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., Publishers, 1985), 100. 9 Thomas Crow, Emulation: David, Drouais, and Girodet in the Art of Revolutionary France, rev. ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006), 107. 10 Nanteuil, Jacques-Louis David, 100. 11 Crow, Emulation, 108. 12 Nanteuil, Jacques-Louis David, 100. 13 Lee, David, 116-119. 14 Anita Brookner, Jacques-Louis David (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1980), 91-92. 15 Internet Modern History Source Book: French Revolution, “The Tennis Court Oath: June, 20, 1789,” Fordham University Internet History Sourcebooks Project, http://www.fordham.eduhalsall/mod/modsbook13.html (accessed November 3, 2009). 16 Roberts, Jacques-Louis David, Revolutionary Artist, 50-51. 17 Jacques-Louis David, The Tennis Court Oath, 1791, Chateau de Versailles, http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/File:Se ment_du _jeu_de_paume.jpg (accessed May 1, 2010). 18 Dorothy Johnson, Jacques-Louis David: the Farewell of Telemachus and Eucharis (Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 1997), 20; Warren Roberts, Jacques-Louis David and JeanLouis Prieur, Revolutionary Artists: The Public, the Populace, and Images of the French Revolution (Albany: State University of New York, 2000), 227-228. Antoine Schnapper, David (New York: Publishers of Fine Art Books, 1980), 102-106. 19 20 Brookner, Jacques-Louis David, 95-100, 155. 21 Lee, David, 141. 31 22 Helen Rosenau, The Painter Jacques-Louis David (London: Nicholson and Watson, 1948), 53-55, 58-60. 23 Ewa Lajer-Burcharth, Necklines: The Art of Jacques-Louis David after the Terror (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press), 50-51. 24 Jacques-Louis David, “Resignation from the Académie” (November 11, 1792), quoted in Anita Brookner, Jacques-Louis David (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1980), 100-101. Roberts, Jacques-Louis David, Revolutionary Artist, 72-73. 25 26 William Vaughan and Helen Weston, ed. Jacques-Louis David’s Marat (Cambridge, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 9-14. 27 Nanteuil, Jacques-Louis David, 112. 28 Jacques-Louis David, Death of Marat, 1793, Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Death_of_Marat_by_David.jpg (accessed May 1, 2010). 29 Nanteuil, Jacques-Louis David, 112. 30 Vaughan, Jacques-Louis David’s Marat, 15-16. 31 32 33 Ibid., 17. Roberts, Jacques-Louis David, Revolutionary Artist, 95. Ibid., 99-101. 34 Ibid.; Jacques-Louis David, The Intervention of the Sabine Women, 1799, The Louvre Museum, Paris, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sabine_women.jpg (accessed May 1, 2010). 35 Bordes, Philippe. Jacques-Louis David: Empire to Exile (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 195-198. 36 Karen Domenici, “James Gillray: An English Source for David’s Les Sabines” The Art Bulletin 65, no. 3 (September, 1983): 493-495, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3050351 (accessed October, 20, 2009); Robert Rosenblum, “A New Source for David’s ‘Sabines’,” The Burlington Magazine 104, no. 709 (April, 1962): 158-159, http://www.jstor.org/stable/873618 (accessed October 21, 2006). 37 Brookner, Jacques-Louis David, 143-145. 38 Roberts, Jacques-Louis David, Revolutionary Artist, 115.