A Tale of Two Paintings: The French Revolution's Approach to Propaganda
What The Death of Marat and a portrait of Marie Antoinette can teach us about politics and propaganda
Well, why not talk about something light today? Recently, I revealed my true colors, which is to say I geeked out a lot about the French Revolution. So today we’re back to talk about my least favorite painting from this time period. I’ve been leaving hints in prior posts so maybe you already know, but if not, strap in.
We’re also going to return to a painting I discussed in my post about Vigee Le Brun, namely, “Marie Antoinette of Lorraine-Habsburg, Queen of France, and Her Children.” As I stated in that post, Vigee Le Brun painted this in an attempt to make Queen Marie Antoinette look good. Ultimately she failed, and the same year that Marie Antoinette was killed at the guillotine, another painting was created for a similar purpose.
This painting is ingrained in me. I was seething the first time I saw it in high school. I can openly admit it’s a stunning and powerful painting, but it drives me utterly insane. I referenced this very artist in my last post, by the way. And there’s a sort of ironic twist to that because I referenced his painting of Napoleon Bonaparte.
Who is Jacques-Louis David, the painter of this beguiling but terrifying piece? David was born in August 30th, 1748, in Paris. Like Vigee Le Brun, his father died when he was young but unlike her, he was raised by two fierce uncles. He studied art under Joseph-Marie Vien, a history painter, and by 18 went on to enroll at the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture.
To say David was intense is putting it lightly. He failed to win the Prix de Rome four times and attempted suicide by refusing to eat. Finally, he won in 1774 and was shipped off to Italy. It’s fairly obvious upon looking at The Death of Marat that Caravaggio was a huge influence on him. By 1784 he was elected into the Académie Royale thanks to his painting Andromache Mourning Hector. At the Paris Salon of 1785, he presented one of his most famous paintings, what would later be known as the neo-classical painting Oath of the Horatii. It was a massive hit and was followed by the Death of Socrates. David was cemented as the top artist of the French Art world.
And then the French Revolution happened.
For Vigee Le Brun, this was nearly a death sentence (she had to escape France), but that was not the case for David. Rather, David became a member of the Jacobins, an extremist group led by Maximilien Robespierre. David even became friends with Robespierre, stepping in as the artist of the revolution. He was even elected to the National Convention in 1792 and voted to execute King Louis XVI. David earned the nickname “the Robespierre of the brush.” So you could say he was pretty damn committed to the revolution.
Essentially, Vigee Le Brun and David were on opposite spectrums. She painted the royal family, namely the queen, in a flattering light. He was the head of artistic propaganda for the Jacobins. Ironically, they even drew the same subject:
This is David’s drawing on the day of Marie Antoinette’s execution. It’s also the day he unveiled the Death of Marat. What an incredible thought it is that these two events are linked to the same day. I knew Marat’s death was the same year as Marie Antoinette’s but it’s strange to think the painting premiered that same day. Time is a wonder.
So let’s look at the painting of my great ire. My issue with this painting is the subject itself, Marat. Before I go into it, I’m going to be blunt: this is my biased opinion. I don’t like him. I’m not going to present him well. You can do your own research and form your own opinion, but mine is set.
Jean-Paul Marat was an extremist who I could best compare to the Wendy Williams meme, “Death to all of them!” No, really. He often called for the death of the royal family as well as counterrevolutionaries. Here is an excerpt of his writing:
“Five or six hundred heads cut off would have assured your repose, freedom, and happiness. A false humanity has held your arms and suspended your blows; because of this millions of your brothers will lose their lives.”
See, my Wendy Williams comparison isn’t too far off, is it? Marat’s extremist policies are not new or old. His ragings are perhaps akin to the sort of things we see on podcasts in the political spectrum. His work is focused on fear-mongering, asking for extreme results that disregard morality and present a sort of us vs them mentality. While we may read his work in horror, he was actually quite popular. Marat’s power and influence were climbing, which made him a terrifying figure. I’m sure this is nothing new to our modern audience, is it?
So how does a dangerous extremist get a painting so soft and beautiful?
Let us set the scene of his demise. Marat had a skin condition that required him to bathe frequently, so he would sit in his bath and write. On July 13th, 1793, a young woman by the name of Charlotte Corday, who was part of a rival political party, entered his home and stabbed him to death in his bath. When the people found out, Charlotte Corday was sent to the guillotine and David was hired to paint Marat’s death as a form of propaganda. David went to the scene of the crime and then prepared his masterpiece.
I think we can all agree (even begrudgingly) that this is a masterpiece. Some consider it to be David’s ultimate masterpiece (this baffles me). Look at the gentle nature to which he paints Marat. He doesn’t show any signs of his skin disease, showing no abnormalities in his skin, but instead casting him in a soft holy glow.
Marat is painted with the sort of gentleness one would paint Christ. It’s possible that David took inspiration from the Marquis de Sade’s remarks about Marat during his funeral. If you’re wondering why Sade sounds familiar, that’s where the term sadism comes from as the Marquis de Sade was imprisoned for… well I’m sure you can guess.
"Like Jesus, Marat loved ardently the people, and only them. Like Jesus, Marat hated kings, nobles, priests, rogues and, like Jesus he never stopped fighting against these plagues of the people." -Marquis de Sade
What an odd thing to say. I want to clarify I’ve heard this quote referenced several times but I’m struggling to find a proper source, so take it with a grain of salt. I found one source but it required payment. But if this is an accurate quote from the Marquis, then it’s certainly an eye opening and alarming one. It gives us new insight into David’s intent with the painting.
In the bottom, we see the knife used to kill him, and an inscription in the wood. We see ‘À MARAT’ meaning ‘To Marat.’ Notice what is written below David’s name. It names the year as 2 AD. Of course, we know that’s not true, so what is David really saying? What started 2 years before 1793? The French Revolution. What David is doing with this painting is erasing history. He treats Marat as his Christ and claims the French Revolution as the birth of God, the start of it all. It’s as if to say nothing but this moment matters.
The background only adds to this feeling. He leaves it blank, where many painters may have presented cherubs or angels to bless the death of Marat and welcome him to heaven. David rejects this, presenting instead nothingness. The reason behind this is rather simple, the revolutionaries were opposed to the Catholic church and Marat suggested a secularized approach to politics. Given David’s attempt to erase the narrative of Christ and organized religion altogether, cherubs wouldn’t make sense in this painting. He’s choosing his own narrative, one where he defines religion.
Though both subjects ultimately passed, we can see how these two compare in their message. Ultimately, Vigee Le Brun’s attempts to create royalist propaganda failed. But David’s is still heralded today. While both paintings attempt to force a narrative, I find the one Vigee Le Brun is pushing less alarming than David’s. That’s not to say it isn’t in its own right. After all, the painting is saying that Marie Antoinette’s value is in her ability to produce children. But she doesn’t attempt to turn Marie Antoinette into Christ.
Both paintings met similar fates. By 1794, the Revolution turned against extremists and Marat’s image was no longer revered. David feared his masterpiece being destroyed and hid it. Vigee Le Brun’s painting was hidden from the public. He would later go on to paint Napoleon, which almost feels odd in comparison. When Napoleon was overthrown, David was forced into exile in Brussels and took The Death of Marat with him. In a sense, he and Vigee Le Brun weren’t that different. She even painted Napoleon’s sister.
It’s strange to think how David’s propaganda work evolved under Napoleon. While this painting is much grander than The Death of Marat, one cannot help but wonder how David felt about this painting in comparison, especially given his particular attachment to the older painting. You cannot help but wonder if he shared Vigee Le Brun’s ire for Napoleon, though they were once technically enemies.
I find when I look at The Death of Marat I’m reminded of how little has changed. I could pull up several bits of political art centered around Donald Trump to illustrate my point. Perhaps the most famous of which is Kathy Griffin’s beheading of Donald Trump. For all that I’m not a fan of Trump, I cannot share that picture because I find it beyond distasteful (and I don’t want my account shut down).
Yet there is something telling about the narrative surrounding pieces on Donald Trump. If you google ‘Donald Trump Art’ you’re met with a heavy myriad. Some praise, some attack, many present an odd narrative. There are pieces depicting Donald Trump praying with Christ behind him. Is that really different from what David did with Marat here? Is that not echoing the words of the Marquis de Sade, using blasphemy and religion to sway the public?
I’m not going to tell you how to feel. I mean only to suggest we ask ourselves, “How is this being used to manipulate our ideologies?” What I’m asking is that while we admire the artistry of The Death of Marat and even the work of Vigee Le Brun, we remember the harm such work can do and how it can sway the public to support extremist ideologies.
There are many reasons I don’t like this painting, all of which come down to my personal opinions and not the quality of the work itself. Ultimately, I find myself confronted with the uncomfortable muse of propaganda. I cannot escape the discomfort of knowing The Death of Marat is still prevalent in our culture in ways.
Fascinating essay! Thank you for sharing :)
I have seen both paintings. You make them new.