Miramon
Edouard Manet, copyright The National Gallery
Maximillian stands in the centre
flanked by two generals,
jerks as the bullet rips through
Mejia the unseen third,
squeezing Miramon’s hand,
his thumb a trigger curve,
the soldiers in French uniform
though Mexican –
surely a commentary on
Napoleon’s decision to withdraw.
The firing squad, was the blood
louder in their ears than gunpowder
or were they thinking of national pride,
or of the last time they shot a man?
Perhaps one needed to piss,
another had an unsteady hand
after a night of mescal,
here only one shows his face,
eyes down, caught up
in the mechanics of his rifle.
They are not standing in a row
as I would have imagined them,
no the only straight lines are
where the canvas has been cut
and reassembled
like the frames of a film,
giving the scene an
ironic momentum,
Miramon facing his killers,
execution stayed
ad infinitum.
Standing in front of the painting, the canvas huge, mesmerising, another cluster of people staring at him, and his eyes not afraid, no, resigned, expectant. My own drift to the blue hills beyond, to the sky clouded by the breath of smoking guns, to shadowed ground, these things are easier to look on than Miramon.
A woman with headphones pushes through the small crowd to the front, is taking hurried notes, I want to know what she is writing but do not ask, only move away subdued, feeling as if I had been there looking on.
May 3, 2008 at 6:33 am
The Execution of Maximillian: The Austrian Maximillian of the Habsburg-Lorraine family was placed on the Mexican throne by Napoleon in 1864. The Mexicans refused to recognise the puppet emperor and Napoleon finally withdrew his troops in 1866 leaving Maximillian and two of his generals in rebel hands.
Manet made several paintings of the incident, the final canvas damaged while in storage in his studio. After his death, the damaged sections were cut away and destroyed by his family and the fragments sold as individual paintings. These were bought and put back together by Degas in the 1890s. The National Gallery acquired them in 1918, separated them again, and in 1992 reunited them on one canvas.
Even though the painting has been spoiled, it is a very powerful piece, huge, vivid, visceral almost the more so for having been cut up and reassembled.
May 3, 2008 at 7:06 am
I’m puzzled at Manet being so eager to paint this event. What did it mean to him, I wonder? I imagine he saw the attempt to put a Habsburg on the throne of Mexico as ludicrous, but the paintings seem to me to make Maximillian and Miramon sympathetic. Perhaps it’s like the sympathetic portrait of the aristocrats in “The Grand Illusion”?
May 3, 2008 at 11:29 am
this was a lovely piece,, and a lesson for me all in one…..
May 3, 2008 at 12:50 pm
had a minute–
like the prose part somewhat better–not sure why, but like the “one needed to piss–very good
May 3, 2008 at 1:01 pm
Wonderful.
May 3, 2008 at 6:07 pm
Thanks for taking me on a ride inside the painting. You do a wonderful job. Peace,
May 3, 2008 at 8:37 pm
I never knew that about the piece being cut up and then reassembled. What a fascinating postscript to the very troubled time it so powerfully depicts, and which you do such a powerful job of conveying.
May 3, 2008 at 11:00 pm
An interesting cut up piece of writing with varying perspectives to match the painting. Is there a subtle political point in the final paragraph as there is in the painting which wasn’t exhibited for many years as a result of political repression, or is the writer commenting in the writing on the disjunct of the viewer and the viewed which is often the theme of art criticism when looking at this painting, either way a thoughtprovoking and wellexecuted piece of blogart, the words and the image playing counterpoint,
May 4, 2008 at 4:17 pm
I find this to be a very interesting blend; and a history lesson to boot. Very well done, Jo..
May 4, 2008 at 4:50 pm
Thank you for the poem, the comments, and the information! Good reading!
May 4, 2008 at 9:05 pm
I wonder why I want more about ‘moving away subdued’ and the walk through the rest of the day, what you went to bed thinking about, what you woke up with and then the struggle to write. Something was certainly stirred and I wonder if you have gotten to the bottom of it. Love the piece as is, of course. It seems I always do, you have that gift. Just wondering about the other stuff… none of my business…
May 4, 2008 at 9:10 pm
Thanks all……
Dale, they were somewhat hung out to dry. And Manet was very anti-Napoleon.
Great comment, Paul, of course, and well spotted on the chop-up and the cunning ploy in the final para, you are the arch decoder.
Goodness me, Mr Mobbs, I am English you know, stiff upper and all that…..actually in that respect I am not English at all; that said, I’ll mail you, I get in trouble if my poetry’s too personal (grin). Seriously, thank you, you know I am a huge fan of yours, or I hope you do, I tell you often enough
May 4, 2008 at 10:36 pm
I think I would love to have a companion book of poetry written by you, Jo, to accompany me through museums and galleries
May 5, 2008 at 3:36 pm
lovely. you should write a huge volume of historical fiction.
i especially loved the lines: “My own drift to the blue hills beyond, to the sky clouded by the breath of smoking guns, to shadowed ground, these things are easier to look on than Miramon.” and “I want to know what she is writing but do not ask, only move away subdued”
May 5, 2008 at 10:08 pm
A very interesting topic for a poem. The narrator muses about people in the painting, people in the gallery, it’s a story within a story, which always intrigues. So much we’ll never know. Terrific writing.
I went to the monastery where Maximillian was shot, in Querétaro. They had his cot set up where he had slept before the execution. I was struck by how modern it looked- it was brass, with tiny little screws in slender joints where the cot could be folded up and stored away. It was so real.
May 19, 2008 at 9:03 pm
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