Something for Eternity

Jacques-Louis David’s The Oath of the Horatii (1784) unfolds in thirds. In the background, an archway with three alcoves neatly and quietly frames the narrative. On the left, three brothers salute their father who, from the composition’s center, offers them each a sword. One brother wraps his free arm around his sibling, binding himself in fraternal loyalty. David highlights the men’s muscles through careful shadowing, as their wide stances stretch across the tiled floor. In the rightmost third of the composition, three women and two children cast their eyes downward. Their bodies sag, as if crumpling into a soft pile of curves and drapery.

The Oath of the Horatii has often been cited as the paragon of Neoclassicism, the 18th-century movement inspired by classical antiquity. A scholar of the period, Stefano Grandesso of Galleria Carlo Virgilio in Rome, explains, “Neoclassicism was a sum of different styles. The contemporary people called it the ‘true style’ because it was the universal style of antiquity and an idealization of the best parts of Nature.” Artists differentiated themselves from the Rococo and Baroque by using the sleek, harmonious lines that they had observed in ancient architecture and monuments. “It was connected to the search to change man that was solicited by the Enlightenment. Antiquity was seen not only as an artistic example, but also as a moral one.”

These philosophical, aesthetic, and historical motivations are at work in The Oath of the Horatii. According to Roman legend, the Horatii were brothers selected to defend Rome against their rivals, the Albans. David represents the moment in which the brothers vowed to fight — or die trying — to defend their city. The women and children, whose fates were intermingled through blood and marriage, grieve knowing that death is imminent. Visually, the painting has an intense frontality; its precise, linear style adds to an impression of directness. David’s image declares the importance of rationality in design — and in prioritizing political ideals over sentimentality.

At the time he painted The Oath, David was in Rome, then Europe’s artistic epicenter. In this period, artists, intellectuals, and aristocrats flocked to the city to complete their educations, by studying both from the past and from contemporary leaders. “We have several painters, for example, Andrea Appiani in Milan, [Vincenzo] Camuccini in Rome, [Pietro] Benvenuti in Florence. But the leading art is sculpture,” explains Grandesso. He posits that David may have been inspired by the Neoclassical Italian sculptor, Antonio Canova. Canova’s tomb for Pope Clement XIV has figures with similar postures: the Pope casts a blessing from atop the monument, while below, two mourning women provide a counterweight. “Canova’s influence is very deep, for decades,” says Grandesso.

When we talk about Neoclassicism, the role of Italy cannot be overstated. It housed not only examples like Canova’s but also seemingly endless opportunities for firsthand observation of ancient artwork. Important archeological sites like Pompeii and Ercolano were all discovered around this time, creating an appetite for knowledge and collecting. “So many people went to see these ruins,” explains Grandesso. “The discoveries created new museums like the Museo Pio Clementino [Vatican Museum] and the Campidoglio Museum [Musei Capitolini], so full of masterpieces from antiquity. Everyone in this cult of classical heritage thought it was possible to collect antiquities and commission modern artists.”

For an aspiring artist pursuing training in Italy, drawing would have been the most essential part of their practice, no matter what medium they worked in. Neoclassism is tied to the “academic” style, which developed at the storied European academies. According to academic training, drawing formed the basis of all artmaking. Grandesso explains, “David and Canova studied nude models in life, and at the same time, drawing was cultivated from the great models of antiquity. Artists achieved greatness when they did not copy but were at the same level of the antiquities.”

The past became a barometer for the values of the present. And as they sought visual and moral truth from the ancient past, these same artists pioneered a new role in society for themselves. For the first time, many artists experienced creative freedom, as they worked without commissions. “The artist is not an artisan. The artist is an intellectual,” says Grandesso. “The modern artist begins in this time because for the first time he works without com- mission, expressing thus fully his poetics, as is the case of Canova and his rival Bertel Thorvaldsen.”

At the same time, this creative freedom — and claims to a universal, heroic style — had mixed reception. Grandesso tells the story of Canova’s statue, Napoleon as Mars the Peacemaker (1802-06), which was commissioned by the emperor. Canova traveled to France to model Napoleon’s bust from life. But while the face closely follows Napoleon’s features, the rest of the figure is an idealized male nude. Napoleon reportedly removed the sculpture from public view, loath to be seen naked — and with a body that did not resemble his own.

Canova was undeterred. He knew what he was doing. “For Canova, this was the language of sculpture. It was prepared in the antique style. So, the nude is absolute, is something independent from the moment of history,” contends Grandesso. In true Neoclassical style, Canova drew on philosophical ideals that transcended the present moment and the preferences of his patron. Because Canova’s ambition was really to create something that defied temporality altogether. In this way, the sculpture became, as Grandesso explains, “something for eternity.”