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Image
32. Le Retour triomphant des Héroïnes Françaises
de Versailles à Paris le 6 Octobre 1789. [The Triumphant
Return of the French Heroines from Versailles to Paris,
October 6, 1789]
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“Memorable
Day at Versailles” [Image
6] is a color print, most likely the copy
of an earlier version entitled, “The
Triumphal Return of the French Heroines from Versailles to Paris,
6 October, 1789” [Image
32] done by, or in the manner of,
Debucourt. In
the present version, the anonymous artist has added a male Jacobin
and a woman dressed in sans-culotte attire to the Debucourt original.
The crude primary colors in the current print indicate a rough,
inexpensive form of production, perhaps a metal or wood-block etching
colored with stenciled applications. The vibrant red of the
rider's jacket, the phrygian cap, and the carmagnole vest of the
figure in the background, plus the red skirt and frippery of the
women's dresses indicate that republican colors and symbols could
have been added subsequently (after 1792) to the earlier engraving.
Thus, the composition provides a jibe toward both the market
women who march on Versailles in 1789 and the sans-culottes women
who, in the absence of the king, continue to pursue their own sexual
and political exploits. This burlesque shift in power from king
to courtesans certainly questions the credibility of the sans-culotte
revolution.
Cartoonists, such as James
Gillray, also used bitter satire to discredit the French revolution
among curious Brits. The explosion of British cartoons after 1792
reveals the extent of the political threat posed across the channel. In one such print, “French
Liberty, British Slavery,” [Image
23] Gillray points out the
frenzied madness of French revolutionaries as compared with the
opulence
and prosperity
of John Bull, who, at the time of the revolution, represents characteristics
of the ordinary British citizen. The
artist presents “Liberty” personified as an emaciated
bohemian seated on a stool, eating turnips and greens (animal fodder)
in front of a smoking fireplace. The surrounding room is stark
with a cobweb in one corner of the window and a basket of turnips
on the table. A sword lies atop a violin, suggesting Liberty's
relinquishment of aesthetic skills for martial pursuits. Strangely,
Liberty wears the torn stockings and the culottes of a former notable
or aristocrat rather than the trousers of an artisan or laborer. But
the face of the French radical registers the angularity, length,
and obsessed expression of unequivocal hunger. His long hair tied
with a bow and bright cockade on his hat identify the starving
figure as a desperate proponent of the revolution, but his clawed
hands and feet suggest a closer affiliation with the animal world
than with the human. Epithets in the balloon above his head laud
Liberty in a series of unrelated phrases such as, “Vive l'
Assemblée Nationale,” “No more Taxes,” “No
more slavery,” “All Free Citizens,” and “Ve
svim in Milk and Honey.” Such empty phrases reveal how Gillray
endeavors to discredit utopian platitudes about the French revolution.
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Image 9. French Democrats surprizing
the Royal Runaways. Published June 27, 1791. |
Gillray's effeminate
representation of “Liberty” in
his pink jacket contrasts sharply with the bald and obese figure
of “John Bull” dressed in royal blue, who is about
to ingest his proverbial pot roast and ale on the table in front
of him. The body and facial coloring of the flushed “Brit” reflect
the slab of beef he is about to devour. To give full attention
to his meal, the rotund gourmand has drawn the tablecloth around
his neck as an erstwhile bib and discarded his wig on the side
of the armchair. The legend in the balloon above his head reveals
his frustration with the taxation policies of the Pitt ministry. “This
cursed Ministry. They'll ruin us all with their damned taxes.” The
contrast between the starving French fiend and the prosperous British
glutton underlines the dearth and scarcity of material means in
revolutionary France.
A statue of Britannia holding a sack of sterling on the mantle
piece behind John Bull further contrasts British wealth as compared
with destitution in revolutionary France.
Seen from a cannibalistic perspective, the British icon has devoured
or is about to devour the emaciated figure of French Liberty that
scarcely poses any sort of real threat to British sanguinity.
Gillray produces another vivid
caricature of revolutionary France in
his depiction of “French Democrats Surprising the Royal Runaways.” [Image
9] As
in “French Liberty British Slavery,” Gillray emphasizes
a physio-psychological contrast between the sinuous (starving)
and emaciated bodies of the French revolutionaries who invade the
French royal quarters on June 20, 1791 and the pompous, ample,
and lethargic physique of the king and queen. But Gillray also
indicts the corpulent king (decked out in a red vest, blue jacket,
and yellow pants) and queen (wearing an elegant British hat with
pink ribbons) who raise their hands in dismay at the unexpected
invasion by a revolutionary hoard wearing tricolor cockades. The
invaders' elongated faces and enraged expressions bear close resemblance
to the distracted figure of “French Liberty” [Image
23] in the previous Gillray print.
Carrying brooms, mallets, muskets, pistols,
bayonets, knives, and swords, the unruly band threatens the king
and queen, and points a bayonet toward the bottom of the indisposed
dauphin, who is having a tantrum on the floor. While the leader
of the troop, sporting aristocratic culottes, directs his sword
and musket toward the head of the king, a frantic gunner behind
him sticks out his tongue and points his “provocative” weapon
directly at the queen. Another figure in the center background
appears about to decapitate himself with two knives during the
frenzied capture of the royal truants. Though the invading troops
address their unrestrained rage toward the king and queen, the
royal couple appears to respond with perplexity to the unexpected
furor of their captors. The British satirist thereby pokes bitter
fun at the irrationality and violence of the revolutionary hooligans,
while at the same time underscoring the indolence,
ineptitude, and cowardice of the beleaguered royal family. Through
both political and gender satire, Gillray poses British prosperity
as a preferred alternative to a cowardly French monarchy beset
by a deranged band of starving revolutionaries.
Notes
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