At first glance, the eye is immediately drawn to the naked Arab man on the right. His sword is lifted in defence of the French fee; his still left arm cradles a stricken Mamluk warrior in luxurious attire. To the left of the painting is a French soldier improving on the rebels with sword raised in obvious purpose, stepping over the body of a fallen native who is dressed in traditional white robes. At the centre of the piece is a helmeted hussar, finding out about at the Arab warrior with a steely deal with; sword pulled back in expectation. Underneath him is a turbaned dark-colored man in the heavy of the melee, with a raised dagger in one hand and the top of your French soldier in the other.
The level of the task is substantial (365 x 500 cm), and the brushwork is very fine in the traditional style, departing little proof the brush strokes on the canvas. Beyond the highlighted individuals, Girodet employs a fairly dark palette of reds and browns, in keeping with the every day, grubby assault of the arena, and better accentuate the key players. This combo of light and hue lends the painting a great depth of field. The light comes from the upper-left of the picture aircraft, but the numbers are arranged so that only the Mamluk warrior and his Arab protector are totally illuminated. They are extremely alluring to the eye, and Girodet appears to have taken great care and attention to get them with much humanity. The naked warrior is depicted in a classically sculpted cause, a glance of sickened horror on his face at the view of a French offensive in the mosque. The charging Hussar's face on the other side, is portrayed in deep shadow under his raised sword arm, obscuring his features and therefore demoting his status. Although there is no actual blood depicted in the part, the flashes of red on the hussar's trousers and the Mamluk's cloak give a striking suggestion.
It is important for us never to expect the artist's thinking or impose our own moral agenda on the part. However, it is difficult never to come away from the painting with this sympathies leaning on the exotic figures. This is definitely not the commissioned intention, but Girodet's subversion seems to be quite evident. Probably the most obvious distinction between your two main protagonists is usually that the naked warrior is at a defensive position, and guarding the Mamluk in to the bargain, while the French hussar is very much indeed on the harm. In a very distortion of French Neoclassicism, Girodet bestows all the suitable attributes of classical custom: bravery, honour, commitment, on the indigenous. Their illuminated faces seem to be to portray the majesty of most human emotion in this moment of high melodrama, while the hussar, lessened by his own shadow, is reduced to a cipher for French military ambition and ignominious ethnic disregard. He is violently portrayed, with a single-mindedness of purpose no compassionate aspect: A whirling automaton in service to the Empire.
Despite the classical modelling and brushwork of the bodies, the heightened simple fact and high feeling shown is of an extremely Affectionate persuasion, and quite unlike the typically cool reasoning and overt propaganda of Napoleonic fine art. Girodet was positively fascinated with the exotic, acquired Royalist sympathies and was rumoured to be homosexual. This all lends weight to the situation for a subversive interpretation. The positive portrayals of the Arab and Mamluk warriors also go against Napoleon's well recorded racial bigotry, which someone of Girodet's likes may well have found repugnant.
Comparisons with other commissioned works of the time bear out the uncharacteristic dynamics of Girodet's positive, ardent portrayal of the naked Arab and Mamluk. Gurin's Bonaparte Pardoning the Rebels at Cairo (1808) presents an extremely different interpretation of the Egyptian marketing campaign, but also an idealised version in its own way. The benevolent Napoleon stands above his new subject matter, much less a conqueror, but as their great liberator and pacifier. The Egyptians are dead-eyed and passionless at Napoleon's feet: Like simple children hanging around to be led. The main exception to this is a white-turbaned woman gazing gratefully up at Napoleon from the throng. This idea of Napoleon as saviour, taking peace and enlightenment, is a lot more typical of commissioned Napoleonic fine art, and very significantly removed from Girodet's portrayal of events.
In the interest of balance, we should also consider how The Revolt at Cairo might have been viewed at the time through more imperialistic sight. In which a more liberal view might start to see the hussar's crimson onslaught as wading through the blood vessels of the innocent indigenous (the fallen, white robed physique the hussar is moving over supports this), this painting would also speak loudly to people still drunk on post cutting edge fervour. They may just as easily have lauded the hussar for crushing the enemies of independence and dispersing enlightenment and civilisation. The stunning interpretation of the visible exotics could also be viewed negatively, with the light shining down on them not in glory, but in enlightened judgement of the Arab's barbarous nakedness, and the Mamluk's weakened, self-interested opulence and rumoured flavour for sodomy.
However, with the benefit of background, The Revolt at Cairo appears to be a subversion of the creative manipulation widespread throughout Napoleon's career; a deliberate or more likely unconscious reversal on Girodet's part. In addition to the content and execution of the piece, the actual fact that the painting was completed over a decade after the happenings depicted lends weight to subversive intentions, as many were weary of war by this time. Only the allusions to French military services superiority and tokens such as the decapitated French brain make the job plausible as Napoleonic propaganda whatsoever.
In Stendhal's biography, A Life of Napoleon, he is characteristically more protective of Napoleon's activities in Cairo than Girodet has been. However, Stendhal seems to be quite conflicted, and in a state of moral flux throughout his profile. In recalling the events of the revolt, Stendhal commences by extolling the virtues of the Mamluk warriors (as Girodet clearly have in his commission payment). Stendhal talks very highly of the Mamluk people after the event, eulogising them as 'the most proud and ferocious of men' (A Life of Napoleon, p. 37), and discussing their 'sublime courage' (A Life of Napoleon, p. 37) within an earlier passing. To reward the adversary at the commencement of any defence of Napoleon's activities seems uncommon, and speaks of your inner issue on Stendhal's part.
This is not the only occasion in Stendhal's record where he displays a discord between his own better moral judgement, and his extreme admiration of Napoleon as a man of future. He expresses contempt for apologists who gloss over Napoleon's crushing of the insurgency with promises that this was only justifiable retaliation for the slaughter of French prisoners in kind. He message or calls these commentators 'Bourgeois', and 'semi-intelligent' (A Life of Napoleon, p. 38), and seemingly feels that sort of bottom reaction would be beneath such a guy. This is despite Stendhal's own entrance that Napoleon 'punished their treachery with a cruelty that he borrowed from them' (A Life of Napoleon, p. 38), casually buying the execution of the priests that he experienced were responsible for the revolt. Instead of a straightforward retaliation, Stendhal seems to search with great depth for a nobler justification for these, 'regrettable but necessary' (A Life of Napoleon, p. 38) actions on Napoleon's part, quoting 'salus populi suprema lex esto' [Let the peoples protection be the supreme rules] (A Life of Napoleon, p. 38). The use of Latin in Stendhal's defence of Napoleon is significant here, given Napoleon's self-acknowledged Caesar complex and the clear associations with the nobility of traditional Rome.
In wanting to explain Napoleon's carry out in this way, Stendhal demonstrates his eventually unswerving support for his leader. However, Napoleon's policy in Egypt associated with an eyes for an eyeball completely disregards one of the primary post-revolutionary justifications for invasion: The heralding of civilisation. Being an extremely sensible man, only Stendhal's blinkered devotion could allow him to disregard this.
Stendhal is greatly enamoured with Napoleon's undoubted brilliance, but confirms it difficult to reconcile his unfettered admiration with the brutality of Napoleon's methods in Cairo. The planned purpose of the passage in the Life of Napoleon is that of an instance for the defence, but Stendhal's uneasiness and praise of the Mamluks gives it mid-air of your apology. Stendhal thus betrays similar misgivings to Girodet, despite outwardly defending Napoleon's activities.
Word Count up - 1485
References
Anne-Louis Girodet-Trioson, The Revolt at Cairo, 1810, olive oil on canvas.
Pierre-Narcisse Gurin, Bonaparte Pardoning the Rebels of Cairo, 1808, oil on canvas.
Stedhal, 2004, A Life of Napoleon. Translated by Roland Give 1956, Milton Keynes, The Open University.
