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4 " In this watercolor Gavarni portrays an individual whose father was an industrialist and whose older brother was a distinguished professor. From the looks of him, Hippolyte Beauvisage Thomire had a keen eye for fashion in casual clothing, however.
He represents the new generation of bourgeois consumers that emerged during the July Monarchy. He is the modern young man off the newly invented fashion plates and out of the cast of Balzac’s Human Comedy.

Charles Baudelaire, the great cultural critic of Louis Philippe’s reign in latter years, called the artist Gavarni “the poet of official dandysme." Dandysme, Baudelaire said (in his famous essay “De l’heroisme de la vie moderne” [The heroism of modern life], which appeared in his review of the Salon of 1846), was “a modern thing.” By this he meant that it was a way for bourgeois men to use their clothing as a costume in order to stand out from the respectable, black-coated crowd in an age when aristocratic codes were crumbling and democratic values had not yet fully replaced them.

The dandy was not Baudelaire’s “modern hero,” however. “The black suit and the frock coat not only have their political beauty as an expression of general equality,” he wrote, “but also their poetic beauty as an expression of the public mentality.” That is why Baudelaire worshiped ambitious rebels, men who disguised themselves by dressing like everyone else. “For the heroes of the Iliad cannot hold a candle to you, Vautrin, Rastignac, Birotteau [all three were major characters in Balzac’s novels] . . . who did not dare to confess to the public what you went through under the macabre dress coat that all of us wear, or to you Honore de Balzac, the strangest, most romantic, and most poetic among all the characters created by your imagination,” Baudelaire declared. "

, The Art of the July Monarchy: France, 1830 to 1848

19 " Even were we to ignore its caption, Daumier’s lithograph of a defense lawyer being restrained and muzzled by the agents of a crooked judge (note the tipped scales) stands by itself as a powerful protest against the juste-milieu's campaign to silence the republican opposition in 1835. This was a central theme of his art at this time. In this case, the context is the so-called Procès monstre, the controversial Mass (or Monster) Trial of the leaders of the April 1834 uprisings, which began in Paris on 5 May 1835. The judges were the peers of France sitting as a high court to hear charges of crimes against the state. Specifically, Daumier alludes to the peers’ decision to arrest two newspaper publishers who had printed, and a group of republican deputies who had signed, a letter proclaiming that “the infamy of the judge makes the glory of the accused.” Press censorship was imposed four months later with the passage of the September Laws.

The three-phrase caption also deserves our attention, principally because it is so difficult to translate accurately. The second and third phrases (“explain yourself, you are free!”) are clear, but the initial (“Vous avez la parole”) represents something more than a loose translation such as “Go ahead” or “You have the floor” can fulfill. Literally one would say “You have the word,” and that is what the entire work (the image and caption read together) is actually about. For the republicans (and for the juste milieu) the dispute over the government’s attempt to restrain free speech was a test of the meaning of the July Revolution itself. To have “la parole”—the printed, as well as spoken, word—was to have language itself, and with it the ability to speak directy to the people. "

, The Art of the July Monarchy: France, 1830 to 1848