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In
1347 the citizens of Calais experienced one of the most momentous
events in that city's illustrious history; five and a half centuries
later, in 1884, the citizens of Calais commissioned Auguste Rodin
to produce a monument commemorating that momentous event; in 1993,
through the remarkable generosity of the Pepper family, the piece
of sculpture that many recognize as the centerpiece of Rodin's commemorative
monument to the city of Calais now serves as the focal point of
the atrium in Davidson College's Katherine and Tom Belk Visual Arts
Center.
In
1347, during the Hundred Years War, Edward III of England held the
city of Calais under siege for more than eleven months--and the
inhabitants of that ancient French city were slowly, but ever so
surely, starving to death. Since there was no possibility of rescue,
the citizens of Calais were forced to accept the terms of surrender
outlined by Edward -- or die. After lengthy negotiations Edward
finally agreed to lift the siege if six of the town's noblest burghers
willingly delivered themselves into his hands--"that he might
do with them according to his will." Leaving little doubt as
to what his "will" would be when they presented themselves
before him carrying the keys to the city and the citadel, Edward
demanded that these six citizens not only appear barefooted, bareheaded
and wearing nothing but their long shirts, but that they arrive
with nooses already tied around their necks.
Bells
of the city were rung as a signal that all of her citizens should
gather in the marketplace in front of the town hall to hear the
terms of surrender imposed upon them by Edward. For the first few
moments after they heard the horrible news, there was total silence
in the marketplace; then one by one six of the leading burghers
stepped forward to die. One of the six, whom we learn was "a
very rich and much respected citizen" and who "had two
lovely maidens for daughters" was named Jean d'Aire. There
was much weeping on the part of the assembled crowd as the six companions
in death stripped down to their shirts, bound nooses around their
necks and slowly made their way out of the marketplace, with Jean
d'Aire carrying the monumental keys to both the city and the citadel.
When the solemn procession reached Calais's main gate the city's
deepest voiced bell--the bell that was to be rung only at state
funerals--began the slow, methodical dirge which continued long
after the six burghers had entered Edward's camp.
In
1884 as Rodin thought about how to best commemorate this remarkable
incident of heroic self sacrifice, he concluded that the time-tested,
traditional approach to such sculptural undertakings simply would
not do. Instead of depicting the burghers in poses of emblematic
victory on a tall pedestal high above eye level, Rodin decided to
anchor his figures to the actual paving stones in front of the town
hall in Calais, and to depict them as they might have looked as
they started their long, last journey to the enemy's camp. Rodin
later summarized his thinking on this point when he wrote:
| I have
not shown them grouped in a triumphant apotheosis; such a glorification
of their heroism would not have corresponded to anything real.
On the contrary, I have, as it were, threaded them one behind
the other, because in the indecision of the last inner combat
which ensues, between their devotion to their cause and their
fear of dying, each of them is isolated in front of his conscience.
They are still questioning themselves to know if they have the
strength to accomplish the supreme sacrifice--their soul pushes
them onward, but their feet refuse to walk. They drag themselves
along painfully, as much because of the feebleness to which
famine has reduced them as because of the terrifying nature
of the sacrifice. . . And certainly, if I have succeeded in
showing how much the body, weakened by the most cruel sufferings,
still holds on to life, how much power it still has over the
spirit that is consumed with bravery, I can congratulate myself
on not having remained beneath the noble theme I dealt with.
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If Rodin's primary
desire in his Burghers of Calais was to portray the many
faceted struggle of the human soul as it faces a momentous decision,
he has certainly succeeded; and if there is one figure in the group
who can be said to epitomize this eternal, internal struggle it
is surely the figure of Jean d'Aire; for here we clearly
perceive someone whose "soul pushes him onward," but whose
"feet refuse to walk."
Davidson's Jean
d'Aire sculpted in 1886, represents the end product of a thought
process that had preoccupied Rodin for nearly two years. Since it
was standard practice for Rodin to sculpt his figures in the nude
even when he knew they would eventually be draped, the Davidson
figure of Jean d'Aire is actually closer to Rodin's original
intent for this figure than its subsequent, particularized appearance
when it appeared in the Calais group. Without the symbolic keys
he was later to carry or the long shirt that he was to don as he
joined his fellow martyrs Jean d'Aire remains a much more
timeless, universal statement. As Rodin once said of his nude Jean
d'Aire, [he does not merely represent one of the people] "who
happened to be there that day, but. . .all of us." And, as
one critic wrote about the nude version of the Burghers of Calais,
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[Rodin] even thought about the arrangement of the draperies
[he was to give his figures], he . . .[sculpted] them [as] skeletons,
nervous systems, as creatures of flesh and blood [with]. . all
the organs of life. . .[These nude figures]. . .represent man's
ephemeral existence and his sorrows. They bear the mark of the
sadness which is the unavoidable characteristic of all great
works. |
Instead of responding
to a specific moment in the Hundred Year's War Davidson's Jean
d'Aire becomes "everyman"--a figure capable of responding
to the limitless possibilities posed by the imaginations of its
ever-changing parade of contemporary viewers. As we confront Jean
d'Aire, we find ourselves focusing on the self-absorbed quality
of the figure and gradually, almost without our awareness, we come
to realize that we are confronting the unheroic, complex human being
that is ourselves. Jean d'Aire "is a monument to human
crisis, deeply moving in its emotional complexity, but for that
very reason a private rather than a public monument."
Those who have
attempted to interpret Rodin's sculpture have rightly applied such
labels as "realistic," "romantic," "impressionistic,"
"symbolic," and "expressionistic." Jean d'Aire
is all of these things -- and much more. Jean d'Aire is convincingly
observed, he's filled with romantic passion, he's rendered impressionistically
(the rough, slashed surface produces an ever-changing series of
visual moments as one walks around the figure), he expresses profound
psychological insight, and he hints at an underlying symbolic dimension
that can never be adequately verbalized. As with all great works
of art, Davidson College's Jean d'Aire will continue to reveal
new facets of its being as long as those of us who encounter it
continue to ask new questions.
by Larry L. Ligo
Professor of Art History
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