Day 411- Revolution and Socrates
April 19, 2025
The paintings in Gallery 634 again present an array of genres - history painting, a scene from the Trojan War, numerous portraits - and I again wonder what organizing theme the curator has come up with. The title of the introductory wall sign: "Revolution." More correctly, if slightly more long-windedly, it might be "The French Revolution: Antecedents and Aftermath." Here is where Houdon's bust of Diderot, considered on Day 187, has come to rest, as has the sculptor's bust of Voltaire; I suppose one might see these writers' intellectual curiosity and rationalism as contributing to the spirit of revolution. The gallery also holds Bouilly's painting of the crowd assembled at the Louvre to view David's painting of Napoleon crowning Josephine, the subject of Day 233's entry, so the subjects depicted extend beyond the Revolution itself.
(I do wonder why the museum has so many galleries of 18th century French paintings. Some are courtesy of the Charles Wrightmans, I know. But were these paintings also especially prized acquisitions of American collectors at some point?)
Perhaps inevitably, today's entry centers on David's celebrated 1787 painting, "The Death of Socrates." Its sheer size alone (perhaps eight feet wide and five feet high) commands attention. So does the fact that it is so widely covered in art history classes. I see many visitors come and stand before the work, viewing in person what they have previously seen only in reproductions, and I hear a few explaining the scene to their companions and, in one case, a child. The painting merits all this attention for its composition, color, and emotion. While eleven figures are depicted, our attention is drawn to the slightly off-center triangle formed by Socrates, his index finger upraised (the apex of the triangle), and the two figures in red and burnt orange robes on either side. They, along with Socrates' white hair and garments and his bare chest, also stand out against the earth-toned background. Except for Socrates, who looks resolutely ahead as he reaches for the poisoned chalice, the other figures are shown in attitudes of concern, grief, and anguish - one clutches his head, two throw their arms up against the wall.
I wonder if the gallery evokes in other visitors what it does in me - that in the horrible political age in which we are now living, free thinkers like Diderot and Socrates could well be the objects of terrible persecution - if not hemlock, other forms of punishment. The introductory signage reminds us that "Change was not unilaterally progressive": Slavery, abolished during the French Revolution, was reinstated in its aftermath, and many rights given to women were rescinded. It's incredibly sobering.
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