All right. I want you to start this deep dive
with a very specific mental image. Just clear
your mind for a second. Okay. Now, picture a
19th century French painter. You're probably
imagining a quiet, sun -drenched studio. Right.
The smell of turpentine in the air. Yeah. Maybe
a guy in a velvet smock gently dabbing paint
onto a canvas. Exactly. Like a bowl of fruit
or, you know, a moody landscape. That is the
box we usually put them in. It's the classic
archetype. The solitary, sensitive artist completely
removed from the chaos of the real world. That's
it. Exactly. Now, I want you to take that image
and hand it a rifle. Right. Put it behind a barricade
in the middle of a violent street revolution.
It's quite the contrast. And then, just for good
measure, make that same guy the mayor of one
of the wildest, most radical districts in Paris.
It sounds like we're mashing up three entirely
different biographies into one, but... But we
aren't. No, we are talking about one man. Okay.
Emil Jean -Baptiste Philippe Ben. This is the
figure we're unpacking today. And I have to say,
looking at the research, this guy is a walking,
talking contradiction. He really is. It is not
often you find a watercolorist who specializes
in, like, delicate mythological nudes, but is
also... a staunch republican engaging in armed
conflict it feels like a character a screenwriter
made up just to be edgy totally does yeah but
he was very real he was and our mission for this
deep dive is to look at 19th century france through
the lens of this one man because it's a fascinating
lens it really is we want to understand how art
and politics didn't just coexist in his life
they violently collided yeah we're talking about
a man established enough to found the society
enough to be fired from a government post for
a conspiracy involving a general. It is a wild
ride. We've got an intense artistic upbringing
and absolute refusal to sell out for money. Which
is rare. Extremely rare. A turbulent political
career and a downfall that centers around, of
all things, a portrait. And that portrait is
really the key. It's the perfect example of the
danger of mixing art and politics in this era.
Totally. But before we get to the scandal and
the downfall, we really need to understand how
he became a painter in the first place. Right.
Because looking at his background, it doesn't
seem like he had much of a choice. Let's go back
to the beginning then. Emile Ben, born in Paris,
1825. You say he didn't have a choice. Was this
a case of the family business? Absolutely. Art
was the family trade. His father was Jean -Baptiste
François Bin, often called Bimper. Right. He
was Emile's first teacher. So from the moment
he could hold a pencil, he's immersed in this
world. But it wasn't just his dad. Right. The
materials mention an uncle as well, don't they?
Yes, Nicolas Gosse. And this is where the training
gets really serious. Okay. Bin studied with his
uncle from the age of 12 to 15. Now pause and
think about that. 12 to 15. Most kids are just
trying to get through middle school math. Or
deal with puberty. But Ben is in a rigorous,
high -stakes art apprenticeship. That is an intense
developmental period. He's not out playing tag.
He's mastering perspective, shading, anatomy.
Precisely. And it wasn't just a hobby. It was
professional prep. He clearly had the talent
to back it up because he moved on to work with
Leon Cogna. Who was a pretty big deal. A very
significant figure in French painting, yes. And
then he entered the École des Beaux -Arts in
1842. For those listening who might not be art
history buffs, can you contextualize the École
des Beaux -Arts? Is this like, I don't know,
getting into Harvard? It's Harvard, Yale, and
Oxford rolled into one, specifically for art.
Wow. It was the ultimate gatekeeper. If you wanted
a serious career in France, you went through
the École. And the training paid off fast, right?
Very fast. Yeah. By 1845, when Ben was just 20
years old, he was already exhibiting at the Salon.
And again, just to clarify the stakes here, the
Salon wasn't just a local gallery show where
you put out some cheese and wine. No, not at
all. The Salon was the art event of the Western
world. Like the Super Bowl of painting. Exactly.
Thousands of people, critics, potential buyers,
government officials, getting accepted at 20
is a massive achievement. It signals that you
have arrived. It really does. So he's a prodigy,
he's young, he's talented, and he's firmly in
the system. But what was his vibe? If I walked
into the salon in 1850 and saw a bin... What
am I looking at? You are looking at classicism.
He was very traditional in his tastes. Okay.
The sources describe him as a fervent admirer
of Michelangelo and Raphael. Going right to the
heavy hitters. Right. He even took a trip to
Rome in 1866 with his star pupil, Joseph Blank,
just to be closer to that Renaissance inspiration.
So we aren't talking about avant -garde rule
-breaking art here. We aren't seeing the early
rumblings of Impressionism yet. Far from it.
Ben was all about structure, anatomy, and grand
themes. He preferred historical scenes, anecdotal
moments, and most notably, mythological nudes.
The list of works in the sources is great. The
Hamadryad from 1870. Yes. The Death of Orpheus,
Perseid Undermade. These are big, dramatic, classical
themes. They are, and they require a high level
of technical skill. You have to know the mythology,
sure, but you also have to execute the human
form perfectly according to very strict academic
standards. Right. But here is where we have to
widen the lens. Ben wasn't just a gallery artist
hoping someone would buy a canvas for their living
room. No. He was a working decorative painter.
I think this distinction is really important
because today we hear decorative painter and
maybe think of someone painting faux marble in
a bathroom or something. Right, right. But in
the 19th century, this meant something. Very
different, didn't it? Completely different. We
are talking about massive architectural projects,
government contracts. Big stuff. He was decorating
the great hall of the Hotel du Louvre, which
he actually worked on with his uncle. Oh, full
circle. Exactly. He did work for the Church of
Saint -Sulpice, the Credit Mobilier, and the
National Museum of Natural History. These are
major centers of power, finance, and religion
in Paris. You don't get these jobs unless you
are reliable and respected by the establishment.
And you have to be able to cover huge surface
areas. It's physical work. Painting a ceiling
or a mural is physically demanding. Yeah. He
even worked on the Egyptian pavilion for the
International Exposition of 1867. Right. I saw
that. That project was designed by Jacques Dravet,
but Bin's contribution was significant enough
that he was awarded the Order of the Medjidi.
Which is an Ottoman order. So his reputation
is literally crossing borders. It was. In 1871,
he even received three commissions from Russia.
Wow. So if you stop the story right here, the
profile of Emil Bin is pretty clear. He is a
highly successful, establishment -approved artist
decorating the walls of the elite. The definition
of an insider. But we can't stop the story there,
because while he is painting ceilings for luxury
hotels and receiving medals from foreign empires,
he is leading a double life. And that is where
the staunch Republican comes in. We really need
to define Republican in this context. For a modern
listener, that word has very specific political
connotations depending on where you live. What
did it mean to be a Republican in mid -19th century
France? In this era, being a Republican meant
you were anti -monarchy and pro -democracy. Okay.
And you have to remember, France was bouncing
back and forth between kings, emperors, and republics
like a ping pong ball. It was a chaotic century.
Extremely. So being a staunch Republican meant
you... You were fundamentally opposed to the
ruling power if that power was a king or an emperor.
It was a radical position. And Ben wasn't just
debating this in coffee shops either. The source
says he fought on the barricades in 1848 and
1851. That is the key distinction between a sympathizer
and a revolutionary. Right. 1848 was the year
of revolutions across Europe. 1851 was the coup
by Louis -Napoleon Bonaparte, who would become
Napoleon III. And fighting on the barricades
meant urban warfare. Exactly. You are piling
up cobblestones and furniture in the street and
shooting at government troops. You are risking
execution or deportation. It paints such a wild
picture. One day he is carefully studying the
brush strokes of Raphael, worrying about the
shading on a nymph's arm, and the next he is
loading a musket with gunpowder -stained hands.
It shows a compartmentalization or... perhaps
a fusion, that is just incredibly rare. But there
is one specific story from the research that
I think really defines his character. It's the
principles over profit moment. This is the story
about the portrait of Napoleon III, right? Yes.
So, Ben is a working artist. Artists have good
years and bad years. Sure. At one point, he really
needed the money. She had a family to support.
And he was offered a commission to paint a portrait
of Napoleon III for the town hall of Montmartre.
Now, Napoleon III is the guy who staged the coup
in 1851. Right. He is the emperor. He is the
arch nemesis of the republicans. Exactly. He
is everything Ben fought against on those barricades.
But the money was there. The money was there.
It was a government job and he was broke. I mean,
most people would just hold their nose, paint
the portrait and cast the check. Right. But Ben
said no. He refused? He flat out rejected the
commission. That is gutsy. It's one thing to
fight anonymously in a crowd. It's another to
personally reject a job from head of state because
of your principles, especially when you're broke.
It highlights that his politics weren't just
a hobby or a youthful phase. He was willing to
suffer financially for his beliefs. He wasn't
a fair -weather Republican. And that commitment
carried right through to the siege of Paris in
1870. This is a dark period. The Prussians have
the city surrounded. People are starving, eating
zoo animals. It was a disaster. Where was Ben?
He wasn't hiding in his studio. He was appointed
to the Council of Armaments and Supplies. Wow.
He was using his organizational skills to help
defend the city. He was active. But, and the
sources make a point of this, he had limits.
And I think this is where the story gets really
nuanced. It does. After the siege came the Commune.
The radical socialist government that reefly
took over Paris in 1871. Right. It was chaotic
and very bloody. The source notes that while
Bin was anti -clerical and close to the extreme
radical left, he refused to take part in the
Commune. So he's radical, but not that radical.
Or was it something else? It could be pragmatism.
He retired to Argentine during that period. Maybe
he saw the violence of the commune as counterproductive,
or maybe he just saw that it was doomed to fail.
That makes sense. It shows that he wasn't just
a mindless revolutionary. He made choices about
when to fight and when to step back. He was a
Republican, but the commune was something different.
It was an insurrection against the French government
itself. So the dust settles on the 1870s. The
Third Republic is finally established. The thing
he's been fighting for his whole life is here.
Finally. Bin is an older man now. He's got his
medals, his reputation. You'd think he'd just
settle down, paint some flowers, and enjoy the
democracy. He did not settle down. In fact, he
leveled up. How so? In 1883, the painter becomes
the mayor. The mayor of the 18—well, just mall.
That's— Yes, mall. Today, we think of it as a
tourist spot with the Sacré -Cœur, but back then
it was the edge of the city. It was working class.
It was bohemian. It was radical. And for six
years, Emile Bin, the classical painter, was
the guy in charge of sanitation, zoning, and
police. I love the image of him leaving a studio
session to go deal with a municipal budget crisis
or a dispute over a street market. He's fantastic.
But his political career didn't end with a retirement
party. It ended in a massive scandal. The Boulanger
Affair. This is where the story turns into a
tragedy. It's 1889. Ben has been mayor for six
years. Suddenly, he is relieved of his duties
fired, essentially by Ernest Constance, the Minister
of the Interior. And the charge is boulangism.
We need to unpack that term because it sounds
like a bread baking contest, but it was actually
very serious. Very serious. It refers to General
Boulanger. He was this incredibly popular, charismatic
general. Okay. He was riding a wave of populism,
and many people in the government feared he was
planning a coup to install himself as a dictator.
Ah. He was the man on horseback that the Republic
was terrified of. So being a boulangist meant
you were suspected of supporting a new dictatorship.
Which is ironic, because Bin has spent his whole
life fighting for the republic. Why on earth
did they think he was supporting a potential
dictator? Well, the source suggests the root
cause was art. Of course it was. It always comes
back to the canvas. In 1888, the year before
he was fired, Bin had exhibited a portrait of
General Boulanger at the salon. So, simply because
he painted the guy, the government assumed he
supported his politics. It seems that way. Or
at least, it gave his enemies the ammunition
they needed. Bin didn't take this lying down,
though. What was his defense? Bin claimed it
was pure political manipulation. He pointed the
finger at a man named Jules Joffrin. Who was
that? Joffrin was a socialist who was actually
running against General Boulanger in the legislative
elections. Oh, interesting. Bin believed Joffrin
used the portrait to frame him as a Boulangist
to get him out of the way. That is some serious
political 4D chess. I'll use your painting to
accuse you of treason so I can win an election.
It really reflects the paranoia of the time,
but it also highlights the danger of mixing art
and politics. A portrait is rarely just a portrait
in that environment. Right. Ben might have seen
it as just a subject, or maybe he admired the
general as a soldier. We don't know for sure.
But the perception of the artwork became a weapon.
And it worked. The weapon fired. He lost his
position. He did. The minister of the interior
fired him. It's a tragic end to his political
career brought about by his artistic career.
The two halves of his life finally crashed into
each other. Exactly. Despite the scandal, though,
his legacy in the art world was actually pretty
secure. I mean, he wasn't just some guy who got
fired. He helped shape the next generation of
French painters. Absolutely. If you look at his
students, the names are surprising. The most
famous one is Paul Signac. Signac. The point
list. The guy with all the colorful dots. The
very same. Bin taught him. And this is fascinating
because Bin was a rigid classicist, right? Yeah,
he loved Raphael. And Signac was a neo -impressionist
revolutionary. But it shows that Bin must have
been an incredible technical teacher. He gave
Signac the tools, the understanding of color
and composition that Signac then used to break
the rules. It's the old learn the rules like
a pro so you can break them like an artist idea.
Exactly. The source also mentions Henri Rivière
and Charles Léandre as students. These were significant
artists. That's quite a roster. And beyond his
students, Ben was an institution builder. He
was one of the founders of the Société des Artistes
Français in 1880. And the Salon des Artistes
Français the next year. He was literally building
the structures that supported French art. He
was. And he was recognized for it. He received
the Legion d 'Honneur rank of Knight in 1878.
So despite the political disgrace later on, the
state had already recognized his contributions.
Yes, very officially. There is one final project
mentioned in the source that I think is the perfect
capstone to his life. It happened in 1889, the
same year of the scandal, right? Yes, 1889, the
centenary of the French Revolution. A huge year
for a Republican like Bin. He executed a 20 -canvas
historical diorama. Can you describe what a diorama
was to a 19th century audience? Think of it as
the IMAX of the 1800s. Oh, I like that. It was
an immersive visual experience. You would stand
in the center and be completely surrounded by
these massive paintings. 20 canvases is an enormous
undertaking. In the subject matter. It covered
the history of the Republic he loved so much.
From the storming of the Bastille all the way
to the departure of Leon Gambetta during the
siege of Paris. The sea she lived through. Exactly.
He was painting history that he had personally
witnessed and participated in. He was documenting
the birth and struggle of the Republic. It's
almost poetic. He's getting fired by the government
for alleged treason. while simultaneously unveiling
a massive monument to the history of that same
government. It really underlines the tragedy
and the irony of his situation. He was a true
believer in the republic. He was celebrating
it in paint at the very moment the republic turned
its back on him politically. It's heartbreaking
in a way. He dedicated his life to two things,
art and the republic. And in the end, his art
was used to sever his tie to the republic's leadership.
That's a powerful way to put it. Emile Bin died
a few years later in 1897 in Marley LaVille.
A quiet end to a very loud life. Indeed. So when
we step back and look at this deep dive, what
are we really seeing? Because to me, Bin feels
like a man who refused to stay in his lane. That
is the big takeaway. He refused to separate his
art from his convictions. In the modern world,
we talk a lot about staying in your lane. Athletes
shouldn't talk politics. Actors should just act.
Right. Bin is the antithesis of that. He wasn't
just a painter and he wasn't just a politician.
He was both, fully, all the time. He painted
ceilings for the Hotel du Louvre to make a living.
But he refused the emperor's money to keep his
soul. And he paid the price for it. He lost his
political career because of a painting. It's
a reminder that historical figures are... rarely
one -dimensional. We look at a painting of a
nymph in a museum and we think, stuffy old academic
painter. We don't realize that the hand holding
the brush also held a rifle on a barricade. It
really makes you wonder about the intent versus
the consequence. How so? Well, Ben claimed he
was fired because of a political rival manipulating
the narrative around that portrait of General
Belanger. Right. The fake news of the 19th century.
Exactly. In today's world of media manipulation
and cancel culture, how different is Ben's story
from modern political scandals? It's remarkably
similar. Was the portrait of Belanger actually
an endorsement? Did he secretly support the coup?
Or was it just a painting? We will never truly
know his intent. We can only see the consequence.
A career ended because an image was weaponized.
A sobering thought to leave you with. Next time
you see a portrait, ask yourself, is it just
art or is it evidence? Thanks for diving deep
with us today. A pleasure as always.