The Deaths of Socrates

Introductory Statement

Plato’s Phaedo tells of the Death of Socrates, how the philosopher accepted his execution and drank the hemlock with “the most serenity and sweetness.” Many artists have visually reimagined—and even repurposed—this narrative. This curation will present six different compositions of the same subject matter: The Death of Socrates. Coincidentally, not only are some of the most famous compositions shown here of the same subject, but also come out of the same general time period: 1750-1800. These two similarities bind the artworks together, but also draw their differences into sharper contrast. Just upon visual inspection, the unique ways in which each artist conceives of the mythical Socrates. A simple glance shows contrasts between the paintings. For some, the Death of Socrates is not just an opportunity for a history painting, but captures a spirit of loyalty to the transcendent which different artists utilize for their particular ends. Others do not depict Socrates as the immortal hero, but disrupt this image by depicting him in different parts of the narrative. Depictions of him in the midst of death, and of his carcass after the hemlock has taken its full effect, contrast with the exemplar depictions of the man and reimagine the heroic figure he is.

Jacques Louis David, Death of Socrates (1787)

Oil on Canvas, 51 x 77 1/4 in., Metropolitan Museum of Art

David’s Socrates is by far the most famous of any depictions of the subject and is considered one of David’s four masterpieces. As a politically involved artist, David’s work is seen as pre-revolutionary. It is similar to Horatti and Brutus in its depiction of a masculine figure “engaged in high-minded self-sacrifice for transcendent values of patriotism and conscience.” As it was shown at the Salon 1787, Socrates serves as a model to be imitated by the French revolutionaries in the pursuit of liberty.

Jean-François Pierre Peyron, The Death of Socrates (1786-7)

Oil on Canvas, w133.5 x h98 cm, Statens Museum for Kunst; Copenhagen, Denmark

Peyron’s Socrates was commissioned by the King’s Minister of Culture and also shown at the Salon 1787. Although it suffered defeat at the hands of David’s Socrates—so much so that Peyron only displayed it the last few days of the exhibition—it was still considered a principal work in French pre-revolutionary art. While David’s was considered the superior composition, it is interesting to note the similarities between the two. Socrates occupies the same space on his deathbed and has a strikingly similar posture. His chest is out and one hand lifts to the heavens as he discusses the immortality of the soul while the other hovers over the hemlock that will end his life. These same features highlight the purpose of displaying Socrates as an exemplum virtutis, a paragon of virtue.

Jacques-Philip-Joseph de Saint-Quentin, The Death of Socrates (1762)

Oil on Canvas, 140 x 115 cm, École des Beaux-Arts, Paris

Little is known about Quentin, the French Old Master artist. He was born in Paris, France in 1938 and died in 1785, leaving behind a range of prints and paintings, including his own Socrates. In addition to being made sixteen years prior, his composition provides a notable contrast to Peyron and David. The cup of hemlock lies on the ground, but none spills out of the cup. All of it has been drunk by the center-stage Socrates who clutches his chest and pushes his disciple away. Rather than being captivated by the bold Socrates, the viewer is kept in perpetual distress and suspense as Socrates is caught in the in-between. This depiction of Socrates after he has drunk the hemlock shows Socrates, not as the immortal man whose ideas and ideals would live on, but as a mortal man, on his way to his death.

Giambettino Cignaroli, The Death of Socrates (1762)

Oil on canvas, 202 x 271 cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest

Cignaroli’s Socrates was created the same year as Quentin’s, commissioned by the Count of Firmian, the Austrian ambassador to Naples. This commissioned work departs from Cignaroli’s usual work in eccliastical paintings. Like Quentin, Cignaroli shows a different kind of Socrates than Peyron and David. Yet, this Socrates is not like Quentin’s in the rapid motion. Instead, this Socrates is hovering between life and death and his disciple in the background begins the lament as the doctor checks his pulse.

Vincenzino Camuccini, Lamentation over the corpse of Socrates (early 1800’s)

Oil on Canvas, unknown

This piece is notable for its contrast to other depictions of Socrates, as well as Camuccini’s other work. Cammuccini is better known for his highly neo classical depictions of The Death of Julius Caesar and The Death of Virginia. Similar to Cignaroli—although in contrast to his own work—Cammuccini does not depict the death moments before it takes place, but shows the grey-skinned Socrates in contrast with the warm and colorfully robed disciples. Unlike Cignaroli, and once again, his own work, Cammuccini does not paint idealized bodies with crisp lines, but more stylized bodies with hints of gesture. Like David’s Socrates, his disciples gather around his body, and some look away to weep. Others look on his carcass with concern and even a hint of disappointment.

Benjamin West, The Death of Socrates (1756)

Oil on Canvas, 31x41 in, Philadelphia History Museum at the Atwater Kent

West’s depiction precedes David’s composition by twenty-one years. It is, visually, one of the biggest stand-outs among all the paintings in the exhibition. West’s figures are stylized, and adjusts the narrative, placing Socrates between in a throng of people. Yet, West accomplishes something similar to David. It is also patriotic art. Commissioned by a veteran of frontier warfare, who was anxious to mobilize men, this Socrates served to arm its viewers against the French government, but against the Indian raids against colonial Lancaster, PA. Once again, we see the exemplar nature of Socrates, where the cup he holds serves two meanings. It “is both a choice he [Socrates] has already made, the consequence of his heroic refusal to conform to the compromise offered by the corrupt assembly. But, for others [the intended viewer], the cup marks the choice they are in the act of making, a shared commitment to martial valor.”