We close our brief visit with
painter Pierre Claude Francois Delorme
(1783-1859) with his 1824 picture, Hector
Reproaching Paris, which now resides in the Amiens Museum.
Your Correspondent must confess to
never having seen this picture in person, and the photographic representations
I’ve been able to find online are not great.
But, it is so interesting that I couldn’t let our look at Delorme pass
without a few thoughts on it.
We had written about the very formal
Neoclassical Empire style, and how Delorme seemed to separate himself from that
tradition a bit, thanks to the influence of his love for Italian Renaissance
painters such as Michelangelo and Raphael. This picture here, with its rigid formalism
and tableaux-like staging, is more in line with the style of Delorme’s time, but he
still manages to incorporate some Renaissance-Mannerist thinking.
Those who remember their Iliad, recall that the whole disaster
was predicated on Paris falling in
love with, and taking away, the beautiful Helen
of Troy. Her defection leads to a cataclysmic
war, one that takes the life of Paris’ brother, Hector, who is killed at the hand of Achilles.
Delorme’s picture illustrates the
scene where Hector breaks into the lovers’ apartments to call Paris to
war. (In the text, Paris is already
preparing for battle when Hector enters, but Delorme creates more drama with his
staging.) Delorme’s craft perfectly
captures the differences between Hector, the warrior, and Paris, the lover.
The world of Paris and Helen is one
of love and sensuality, presented in a pale, golden light. A statue of Aphrodite (Goddess of Love) holding a dove (symbol of peace) stands
in the background, while fragrant blossoms are strewn about the floor and the
table is set with food and drink. On the
floor is the lyre that Paris has dropped; he stands partly on it, as if burying
his worldly pleasures. The sensuality of
this realm is underscored by the nudity of Paris and Helen; particularly that
of Paris, who is caught between the opposing worlds of love and war. In an ironic touch, Paris grows more naked
still – he is removing his wreath – before donning his helmet and armor.
Paris is in marked contrast with the
placid and serene beauty of Helen. She
is the lynchpin of the entire tragedy, but remains a passive object to the
passions around her. More important,
this perfumed world of love and pleasure is rightly her realm, and she is perfectly
at home in it. It is the figures of
Hector and Paris who are the aliens or partial visitors to this space. (Indeed, note how her pose is similar to the
statue of Aphrodite in the background.)
The peacock feathers strike a note of vanity, while the leopard skin on
the bed adds a bit of wild carnality.
Hector, depicted largely in shadow,
appears as a representative of war, complete with red mantle. The shield and spear are near-black outlines
(the spear being particularly phallic) – this darkness announces the darkness
of war. Indeed, the right-hand side of
the canvas, where Paris reaches for his armor, is also dark; the lovers exist
in the shadow of war.
Delorme relies on chiaroscuro, more
a Renaissance than Neoclassical technique, to provide the contrast between the
worlds of love and war, of indulgence and discipline, and of pleasure and
duty. More important, the shadowy figure
of Hector is supremely out-of-place in the world of Paris and Helen.
As we saw with Hero and Leander and Cephalus
and Aroura, Delorme clearly always sides with the lovers. I’m with him.
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