through dramatic depictions of (largely) white heroism and sacrifice (Quilley, 2011, 3–10, 113–164).
There are marked “spots” of originality in eighteenthcentury art and, for all their inbuilt conservative,
hierarchical structures, some of these were achieved by artists working within the framework of the
academies. Thomas Crow points out (1985, 134) that the “surprise outsider” to the Académie royale
(artists such as Watteau, Greuze, Chardin, David) could ultimately win its favor by sheer originality and
force of talent. One famous example is Fragonard’s 1765 history painting, The High Priest Coresus
Sacrifices Himself to Save Callirhoë (Le Grand prêtre Corésus se sacrifie pour sauver Callirhoë),
unusual both for its choice of subject – a high priest who chose to defy the gods by killing himself rather
than Callirhoë, the intended victim – and for its treatment, a dreamy apparition with ghostlike figures.
Diderot described this painting as embodying in an unprecedented way the artist’s powers of imagination.
Rather than proclaiming an assertive heroism, it represented figures in a poetic, trancelike state of
halfbeing that placed them in a different plane of existence. This work gained for Fragonard provisional
membership of the Académie royale. Later in his career, he worked outside the domain of Académie’s
exhibitions, however, in order to exercise even greater creative freedom (Percival, 2012, 3, 10–11).
The increasing use of more naturalistic styles and motifs in history painting was more radical in some
contexts than in others. Earlier in the century the bold realism and references to the everyday in the
religious paintings of Giuseppe Maria Crespi (1665–1747) were regarded as highly radical, given the
Catholic Church’s attachment to visual tradition (Conisbee, 1981, 35–41). In secular subjects naturalism
jarred less, especially later in the century when more recent historical events were often represented. The
most frequently cited example of this is the use of modern dress in history paintings of this kind, and
particularly in Benjamin West’s The Death of General Wolfe (Figure 2.4), which represented a glorious
military death in the context of Britain’s North American colonial wars. It was unusual to represent a hero
in this way, as an “ordinary” (as opposed to classicized) mortal (Abrams, 1985, 180). Reynolds objected
to the idea but West replied that “the event intended to be commemorated took place ... in a region of the
world unknown to the Greeks and Romans, and at a time when no such nations, nor heroes in their
costume, any longer existed” (John Galt’s 1820 biography of West, cited in Fenton, 2006, 158–159).
Eventually Reynolds conceded that West’s work was not only acceptable but would also give rise to a
“revolution” in art. The painting was also radical within the history genre in using a contemporary setting
(rather than a classical or biblical one) to deliver universal messages about patriotism, loyalty, courage
and sacrifice (John Galt’s 1820 biography of West, cited in Fenton, 2006, 158–159).
Scenes from recent or national history became more common in the second half of the century but could
cause concerns due to the fact that they undermined the heroic idealization evoked by the nude or draped
classical body (Wrigley, 1993, 291). Battle paintings also grew in importance, a reflection of a new focus
on national identity, patriotism (the need for “domestic” heroes) and artists’ increasing skill in using war
scenes in order to engage the sympathetic imagination of viewers (Bonehill, 2005, 155–160; Bonehill and
Quilley, 2005, 1–4; Crowley, 2011, 56). The Royal Academy in London encouraged, toward the end of
the century a more varied repertoire of subjects for history paintings, many of them drawn from the
literary canon and including, for example, scenes from William Shakespeare (1582–1616) and John
Milton (1608–1674). By these means the viewing public became accustomed to encountering elevating
ethical and social ideas in less culturally or historically remote contexts (Bindman, 2008, 56, 67), going
further even than those historical works by David, which cast subjects of contemporary relevance in
canonical classical settings, recognizably ancient Greek or Roman in type. Innovation could occur both
within and outside the use of academic classicism.
Portraiture was such an inherently flexible and omnipresent genre that it was ripe for innovation while
hostage to the fluctuations of “fashion.” We have already seen how “historical portraits” incorporated