The Coronation of Napoleon

painting by Jacques-Louis David
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Also known as: “Napoleon Crowning the Empress Josephine”, “Sacre de l’empereur Napoléon 1er et couronnement de l’impératrice Joséphine dans la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, le 2 décembre 1804”, “The Consecration of Napoleon, Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine on December 2, 1804”, “The Coronation of Napoleon and the Crowning of Joséphine at Notre-Dame de Paris, 2 December 1804, The”
In full:
The Coronation of Napoleon and the Crowning of Joséphine at Notre-Dame de Paris, 2 December 1804
French:
Sacre de l’empereur Napoléon 1er et couronnement de l’impératrice Joséphine dans la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, le 2 décembre 1804
Also called:
The Consecration of Napoleon, Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine on December 2, 1804, or Sacre

The Coronation of Napoleon, monumental oil painting (20.37 × 32.12 feet [6.21 × 9.79 meters]) by French artist Jacques-Louis David completed in 1806/07. The work depicts the moment during Napoleon I’s coronation as emperor of France when he crowns his wife, Joséphine, as empress. David took up the challenge of painting a crowded and lavish ceremony by using the Neoclassical values of restraint and clarity, creating a unique history painting of a contemporary event.

Proclamation of the French Empire

The idea for the French Empire came about in 1804, partly as a solution to the frequent threats on the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, then the first consul. Earlier that year a British-financed assassination plot had been uncovered, and Bonaparte decided to react vigorously to deter his opponents from any more such attempts. He readily accepted the suggestion to transform the life consulate into a hereditary empire, which, because of the fact that there would be an heir, would remove all hope of changing the regime by assassination. On May 18, 1804, the empire was proclaimed, and Bonaparte was elevated from first consul to emperor, under the title Napoleon I. The secular proclamation, however, was not enough for Napoleon, and he began to plan a religious ceremony to consecrate his rule.

The coronation

The coronation took place on December 2, 1804, at Notre-Dame Cathedral at the center of Paris. This choice of location was the first of many breaks with the traditional coronations of French kings. Most monarchs of France had been crowned at Reims Cathedral, northeast of Paris, but, because of that church’s very association with the ancien régime, it was rejected as a venue. Indeed, among the many incongruities Napoleon had to navigate was the challenge of using the ceremony to legitimize his reign without recalling the monarchy that had been overthrown during France’s revolution. Every aspect of the ceremony was carefully considered beforehand.

Napoleon, accompanied by Joséphine, entered the church wearing a crown of laurels, a purple velvet cloak lined with ermine, and the necklace of the Légion d’honneur while holding a gold scepter, the hand of justice, and a sword featuring a gold handle encrusted with diamonds. After briefly praying, Napoleon handed the regalia to his advisers and gave a religious oath to Pius VII. Napoleon had persuaded the pope to travel to Paris from the Vatican to officiate the coronation, a move that not only outdid the coronations of French kings, who were typically crowned by an archbishop, but also recalled Charlemagne, who was coronated by the pope in Rome in 800 and thus founded the Holy Roman Empire. The imperial couple then received the sacred unction, or the holy blessing, on the forehead and on both hands. The regalia was blessed and then received by the emperor and empress, who knelt side by side. Napoleon ascended the steps to the altar, and, as the pope held up the crown, Napoleon famously seized it from the pope’s hands and placed it on his own head. He then took the imperial diadem, turned to his wife, who knelt at his feet, and placed it on her head. Although Napoleon’s self-crowning may have seemed bold, a number of sovereigns in history had crowned themselves. The most unusual aspect of this part of the ceremony was the crowning of Joséphine. French queens were rarely coronated—Marie de Médicis was the last to be crowned, in 1610—and not one had ever been coronated alongside her husband.

The painting

To commemorate the coronation and other inaugural ceremonies, Napoleon appointed David first painter to the imperial court and commissioned four monumental paintings from him. He had previously found David’s Napoleon Crossing the Alps (1801) celebrating his military success at the Battle of Marengo (1800) so flattering that he ordered three more versions to be painted. David attended the coronation with his family and began preliminary studies for The Coronation of Napoleon in 1805. Based on these early sketches, scholars have observed that David seemingly intended to adhere closely to the rituals as they actually happened, but, upon Napoleon’s inspection of the painting before the Salon of 1808, David was required to make several changes that were not historically accurate.

Perhaps the most significant change in the final work was the shift in the central action. Initially, David planned to depict Napoleon crowning himself, his right arm holding the crown high above his head, his left hand clutching the sword, and the pope sitting passively behind him. Ultimately, however, David painted the emperor crowning Joséphine, both of his hands holding the diadem high above the empress’s bowed head. Unlike the other changes Napoleon requested, this modification still represents fact, and it is unclear whether David made the shift at the order of Napoleon or if he did so by his own choice. A few contemporaries lamented that by choosing the more restrained action David emptied the painting of its most significant moment. Yet, the decision was not without benefits. Napoleon’s raised arms and Joséphine’s bent figure offered not only more drama but also a much clearer narrative.

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Indeed, restraint and narrative clarity are two of the hallmarks of the Neoclassical style, of which David was a leading proponent. These ideals seemingly guided him in the challenges of depicting an opulent ceremony with some 20,000 dignitaries present. So as not to distract the viewer, David depicted very little action apart from Napoleon’s raised arms and Joséphine’s bowed form. Behind Napoleon, the seated Pope Pius VII raises his right hand in a gesture of blessing. This small act was not part of the original composition but was added after Napoleon’s inspection.

Beyond Napoleon, Joséphine, and Pius, the rest of the figures are organized in groups, and most face forward, as if on a theater stage. The only figures who viewers see from the back are Napoleon’s advisers toward the right foreground of the painting. Their profiles, however, distinguish them as Charles-François Lebrun, treasurer of Napoleon’s empire, holding a scepter; Jean-Jacques-Régis de Cambacérès, archchancellor of the French Empire, gripping a staff topped with the hand of justice; Louis-Alexandre Berthier, marshal of France and chief of staff of the Grande Armée, carrying a globe representing the French Empire; and other figures. In addition to this grouping, David depicted members of the clergy and, farther in the background, a collection of ambassadors, including those from the Ottoman Empire and the United States.

On the left, David painted members of Napoleon’s family, including Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon’s elder brother; Louis Bonaparte, Napoleon’s younger brother; Caroline Bonaparte, Napoleon’s youngest sister; Pauline Bonaparte, wearing a pink gown, Napoleon’s favorite sister; and Élisa Bonaparte, Napoleon’s eldest surviving sister. Napoleon’s mother, Letizia Buonaparte, sits apart from the group, in the main box at the center of the painting. Although she occupies a prominent spot, she was not actually present at the coronation, in protest of Napoleon’s strained relations with his brothers. Napoleon, however, directed David to include her in the final version of the painting. David, the artist himself, stands sketching in the second row of the gallery, surrounded by his family.

The history of the painting

David completed the painting with Napoleon’s desired revisions before it was unveiled at the 1808 Salon. The public greeted the work with great fanfare. As the professors of art history Todd Porterfield and Susan L. Siegfried wrote in the introduction to the 2006 publication Staging Empire: Napoleon, Ingres, and David, the work served as “a surrogate experience of the actual event, a chance to witness the coronation ceremony by proxy after a delay of several years.” The French artist Louis-Léopold Boilly depicted the massive crowds who came to view the piece in his oil painting The Public Viewing David’s Coronation at the Louvre (1810).

Beginning in 1833, The Coronation of Napoleon was displayed in the Palace of Versailles alongside the only other painting David completed from Napoleon’s four-painting commission, The Distribution of the Eagle Standards on 5 December 1804 (1808–10). The former, however, was moved to the Louvre in 1889, where it remains in the 21st century. Meanwhile, a group of American entrepreneurs commissioned David to paint a copy of The Coronation, which he completed during his exile in Brussels in 1822. This copy traveled throughout the United States and Europe before Versailles acquired it in 1947, replacing the empty spot left behind by the original.

Alicja Zelazko

Jacques-Louis David (born August 30, 1748, Paris, France—died December 29, 1825, Brussels, Belgium) was the most celebrated French artist of his day and a principal exponent of the late 18th-century Neoclassical reaction against the Rococo style.

David won wide acclaim with his huge canvases on classical themes (e.g., Oath of the Horatii, 1784). When the French Revolution began in 1789, he served briefly as its artistic director and painted its leaders and martyrs (The Death of Marat, 1793) in a style that is more realistic than classical. Later he was appointed painter to Napoleon. Although primarily a painter of historical events, David was also a great portraitist (e.g., Portrait of Madame Récamier, née Julie (dite Juliette) Bernard, 1800).

Formative years

David was born in the year when new excavations at the ash-buried ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum were beginning to encourage a stylistic return to antiquity (without being, as was long supposed, a principal cause of that return). His father, a small but prosperous dealer in textiles, was killed in a duel in 1757, and the boy was subsequently raised, reportedly not very tenderly, by two uncles. After classical literary studies and a course in drawing, he was placed in the studio of Joseph-Marie Vien, a history painter who catered to the growing Greco-Roman taste without quite abandoning the light sentiment and the eroticism that had been fashionable earlier in the century. At age 18, the obviously gifted budding artist was enrolled in the school of the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture. After four failures in the official competitions and years of discouragement that included an attempt at suicide (by the stoic method of avoiding food), he finally obtained, in 1774, the Prix de Rome, a government scholarship that not only provided a stay in Italy but practically guaranteed lucrative commissions in France. His prize-winning work, Antiochus and Stratonice, reveals that at this point he could still be influenced slightly by the Rococo charm of the painter François Boucher, who had been a family friend.

In Italy there were many influences, including those of the dark-toned 17th-century Bolognese school, the serenely classical Nicolas Poussin, and the dramatically realistic Caravaggio. David absorbed all three, with an evident preference for the strong light and shade of the followers of Caravaggio. For a while he seemed determined to fulfill a prediction he had made on leaving France: “The art of antiquity will not seduce me, for it lacks liveliness.” But he became interested in the Neoclassical doctrines that had been developed in Rome by, among others, the German painter Anton Raphael Mengs and the art historian Johann Joachim Winckelmann. In the company of Quatremère de Quincy, a young French sculptor who was a strong partisan of the return to antiquity, he visited the ruins of Herculaneum, the Doric temples at Paestum, and the Pompeian collections at Naples. In front of the ancient vases and columns, he felt, he said later, that he had just been “operated on for cataract of the eye.”

Rise to fame: 1780–94

Back in Paris in 1780, he completed and successfully exhibited Belisarius Asking Alms, in which he combined a nobly sentimental approach to antiquity with a pictorial technique reminiscent of Poussin. In 1782 he married the spirited Marguerite Pécoul, whose father was a wealthy building contractor and the superintendent of construction at the Louvre—a position that carried considerable influence. From this date David prospered rapidly.

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The pathos and painterly skill of Andromache Mourning Hector brought him election to the Académie Royale in 1784; and that same year, accompanied this time by his wife and studio assistants, he returned to Rome with a commission to complete a painting that appears to have been originally inspired by a Paris performance of Pierre Corneille’s Horace. The result, finally not based on any of the incidents in the play, was the Oath of the Horatii. The subject is the solemn moment, charged with stoicism and simple courage, when the three Horatii brothers face their father and offer their lives to assure victory for Rome in the war with Alba; the pictorial treatment—firm contours, bare cubic space, sober colour, frieze-like composition, and clear lighting—is as austerely non-Rococo as the subject. Exhibited first in David’s studio in Rome and then, following his return to France, in the official Paris Salon of 1785, the picture created a sensation; it was regarded as a manifesto for an artistic revival (the term Neoclassicism was not yet in use) that would cure Europe of the lingering addiction to dainty curves and boudoir themes. Eventually, it came to be regarded, although such was almost certainly not the first intention, as a manifesto for an end to the corruption of an effete aristocracy and for a return to the stern, patriotic morals attributed to republican Rome.

David became a culture hero; he was even referred to in some quarters as a messiah. He added to his fame by producing in 1787 the morally uplifting Death of Socrates, in 1788 the archaeologically interesting Paris and Helen, and in 1789 another lesson in self-sacrifice, The Lictors Bringing to Brutus the Bodies of His Sons. By the time the Brutus was on view, the French Revolution had begun, and this picture of the patriotic Roman consul who condemned his traitorous sons to death had an unanticipated political significance. It also had, through its presumably accurate reconstitution of the details of everyday Roman life, an effect that was perhaps equally unexpected, for with it David began the long and extensive influence he was to have on French fashions. Up-to-date homes began to display imitations of his Roman furniture; men cut their hair short in the Roman style; and women adopted the dresses and the coiffures of Brutus’ daughters.

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In the early years of the Revolution, David was a member of the extremist Jacobin group led by Maximilien Robespierre, and he became an energetic example of the politically committed artist. He was elected to the National Convention in 1792, in time to vote for the execution of Louis XVI. By 1793, as a member of the art commission, he was virtually the art dictator of France and was nicknamed “the Robespierre of the brush.” He preached moral and aesthetic sermons to the Convention:

The artist must be a philosopher. Socrates the skilled sculptor, Jean-Jacques [Rousseau] the good musician, and the immortal Poussin, tracing on the canvas the sublime lessons of philosophy, are so many proofs that an artistic genius should have no other guide except the torch of reason.

Guided supposedly by the torch of reason and perhaps also by bitter memories of his many unsuccessful attempts to win the Prix de Rome, he succeeded in abolishing the Académie Royale and with it much of the old regime’s system for training artists and providing them with patronage. The Académie was replaced briefly by a body called the Commune des Arts, then by a group called the Popular and Republican Society of the Arts, and then, finally, in 1795, after David was out of power, by the beginning of the system—a combination of the Institut de France and the École des Beaux-Arts—that dominated French artistic life during most of the 19th century.

As an artist during these years of his dictatorship, David was frequently busy with revolutionary propaganda. He had commemorative medals struck, set up obelisks in the provinces, and staged national festivals and the grandiose funerals the new government gave its martyrs. Some of his projects for paintings at this time were never completely carried out: one of these is the unfinished Joseph Bara, which is a tribute to a drummer boy shot by the royalists, and another is the sketched Tennis Court Oath, June 20, 1789, which was to commemorate the moment when the Third Estate (the commoners) swore not to disband until a new constitution had been adopted. The Death of Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, painted to honour a murdered deputy and regarded by David as one of his best pictures, was eventually destroyed. The result of all this is that the artist’s Jacobin inspiration is represented principally by The Death of Marat, painted in 1793 shortly after the murder of the revolutionary leader by Charlotte Corday. This “pietà of the Revolution,” as it has been called, is generally considered David’s masterpiece and an example of how, under the pressure of genuine emotion, Neoclassicism could turn into tragic Realism.