We close
this weeklong look at the pictures of Paul
Delaroche with a scene that happened (at last!) after an execution. Here is Oliver Cromwell gazing at the body of
his nemesis, Charles I.
As we
remember from yesterday’s picture, Strafford
Led to Execution, we know that Charles was a hard-headed practitioner of
real politik, who did not hesitate to cast longtime friends to the wolves in
the name of political expediency. Charles
fought the armies of the English and Scottish parliaments in the English Civil
War. He was defeated in 1645, and surrendered to a Scottish force that handed
him over to the English Parliament. Charles
refused to accede to demands for a constitutional monarchy, and escaped in
1647. He was re-imprisoned on the Isle
of Wight, where he forged an alliance with Scotland. However, Oliver Cromwell had control over
England by 1648, and then Charles was tried, convicted and executed for high
treason in 1649. The monarchy was
abolished and the Commonwealth of
England began (lasting a scant year, when the monarchy was restored to
Charles’ son, Charles II).
It’s
important to remember that Delaroche was among the most popular and highest
paid painters of his generation. It was
a generation that brooded upon the French Revolution decades earlier, and had
lost much of its optimism. Instead,
Delaroche had a particular affinity for history’s victims. One critic claimed he specifically chose
subjects “that attack the nervous system of the public.”
Delaroche
regularly synthesized French history through the prism of English history; and
after the defeat of Waterloo there was a great interest in English history in
France, and in the works of Walter Scott,
Shakespeare and Byron. Delaroche was drawn
to the Civil War, which he saw as a forerunner of the French Revolution, where
he cast Charles as a proto-Louis XVI and Cromwell as a less-dapper Napoleon.
Delaroche
paints Cromwell Before the Coffin of Charles
I with the Lord Protector—“brutal as fact” in the words of the poet Heinrich Heine—standing over the body
of his defeated enemy. Though Delaroche would deny any specific connection, it
is impossible not to interpret this work as a comment on recent French history.
Delaroche does not trust this man; preparatory drawing of Cromwell
Ever theatrical,
Delaroche paints a tableaux. We witness
the horrible crimes of history, and watch the victors and victims saddled with
their aftermath. For greater verisimilitude,
Delaroche built little stage sets, including plaster model figures, to help his
artistic imagination. More important, he
never let actual history get in the way of a good story – in fact, the scene
depicted above is apocryphal. There is
no record of Cromwell gazing at the corpse of his vanquished enemy, but
Delaroche had heard the story and knew it contained all the artistic truth his history
needed.
The
important thing is that Delaroche always gets the big picture right: pity the
suffering, despise the powerful and corrupt, and be deeply suspicious of the
mob.
The
Cromwell of today’s picture does not seem to be the hero of English parliamentary
law, but, rather, yet another politician ensuring that a powerful enemy was out
of the way. One hand rests by the hilt
of his sword, the other holds open the coffin.
The tiled floor suggests, to me, a chessboard, and Cromwell has
certainly outmaneuvered the King. There
is deep satisfaction on his face, but what does he look at so intently?
Look
closely at the corpse of the dead monarch, and you will see the bloody stiches
around the dead man’s neck, where the king’s head had been sewn back on the
corpse. Nor is the dead man attired in
kingly robes befitting his office, but a simple shroud of white, no different
from that wrapping any dead commoner. He
does not lie in state, but his simple coffin is propped on a chair.
I do not
think Delaroche believed Charles to be a good man (or monarch); in fact, his
sympathetic painting of Thomas Wentworth before execution, a mean and deadly trick
Charles played on a key ally, makes that fairly plain. But, neither, does Cromwell seem to capture
the painter’s admiration.
In fact,
after painting so many history pictures with executions, betrayals and excess
of power, I believe Paul Delaroche knew politicians for what they are.
2 comments:
After Delaroch, I think we need some Marx Brothers next week!
The Commonwealth lasted from 1649 to 1653 and was followed by the Protectorate from 1653, when Cromwell become Lord Protectorate, to 1660 when Charles II was restored to the throne. Certainly a lot longer than a "scant year".
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