Clytemnestra and Agamemnon (ca. 1822)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Clytemnestra and Agamemnon

In Greek myth, Clytemnestra was a "femme fatale" who murdered her husband Agamemnon and the Trojan princess Cassandra, taken by Agamemnon as a "prize" during the Trojan War.

Henri de la Rochejaquelin (1817)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Henri de la Rochejaquelin

Henri de la Rochejaquelin was a leader in the counter-revolution of 1793, wherein royalist forces attempted to take France back from the forces of revolution. After seeing a great deal of action in this endeavor, he was finally killed - at the tender age of 22.

I don't know French history from the period of 1817 (when the painting was done) in enough detail to understand Guérin's motives for painting what might be considered a politically inflammatory work. Perhaps, with Napoleon finally out of the picture, he was committing himself to the forces of the Restoration?

Phaedra and Hippolytus (1802)

Pierre-Narcisse Guerin: Phaedra and Hippolytus

In Greek mythology, Phaedra is the daughter of Minos and Pasiphaë, wife of Theseus, sister of Ariadne, and the mother of Demophon of Athens and Acamas. Phaedra's name derives from the Greek word phaidros, which meant "bright".

Though married to Theseus, Phaedra fell in love with Hippolytus, Theseus' son born by either Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, or Antiope, her sister. Euripides placed this story twice on the Athenian stage, of which one version survives. According to some sources, Hippolytus had spurned Aphrodite to remain a steadfast and virginal devotee of Artemis, and Aphrodite made Phaedra fall in love with him as a punishment. He rejected her.

In one version, Phaedra's nurse told Hippolytus of her love, and he swore he would not reveal her as a source of information. In revenge, Phaedra wrote Theseus a letter that claimed Hippolytus raped her. Theseus believed her and cursed Hippolytus with one of the three curses he had received from Poseidon. As a result, Hippolytus' horses were frightened by a sea monster and dragged their rider to his death.

Alternatively, after Phaedra told Theseus that Hippolytus had raped her, Theseus killed his son and Phaedra committed suicide out of guilt for she had not intended Hippolytus to die. Artemis later told Theseus the truth. In a third version, Phaedra simply told Theseus this and did not kill herself; Dionysus sent a wild bull which terrified Hippolytus' horses. [Wikipedia]

I seem to have the date wrong on this painting. It appears to date from 1802, not 1815 as my original search seemed to indicate.

Aeneas tells Dido the Misfortunes of the Trojan City (1815)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Aeneas tells Dido the Misfortunes of the Trojan City

Portrait of a Young Girl (1812)

Pierre-Narcisse Guerin: Portrait of a Young Girl

This simple portrait is probably the most erotically charged painting I have ever seen - without being overdone or pornographic. Just a beautiful piece of art (and a nice counterpoint to yesterday's bombastic portrait of Napoleon).

Morpheus and Iris (1811)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Morpheus and Iris

Morpheus was the Greek god of dreams (morphine is named after him).

Sappho on the Leucadian Cliff

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Sappho on the Leucadian Cliff

Aurora and Cephalus (1810)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Aurora and Cephalus

Back to Neoclassic depictions of mythology. Here Guérin depicts the story of Aurora, goddess of the dawn, who falls in love with the mortal hunter. He rejects her to stay faithful to his wife, but then, mistaking the noise she makes in the woods for an animal, kills her - a depressing tale.

Here's an older painting depicting Cephalus grieving over the slain body of his wife, Procris:

 Abraham Janssens van Nuyssen: Cephalus Grieving Over the Dying Procris (1610)

Bonaparte Pardoning the Rebels of Cairo (1808)

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin: Bonaparte Pardoning the Rebels of Cairo 

Pierre-Narcisse Guérin (1774-1833) was a Neoclassic French painter. The incident depicted in this painting followed an abortive rebellion by native Egyptians against French rule.

On the morrow of the rebellion, the sheiks and imams of El-Azhar presented themselves at Bonaparte's palace. 'Their countenances,' Napoleon recalled at St. Helena, 'were those of guilty men consumed by anxiety.' Still, no specific accusations could be levelled against them; besides, Bonaparte had made up his mind not to investigate their conduct. 'I know that many of you have been weak,' he told them, 'but I like to believe that none of you is guilty.' The blood that had been shed was sufficient; the sacred books of El Azhar would be returned to them; let them purify the desecrated mosque, bury their dead, and proclaim his magnanimous amnesty to the people.

The old men, says Napoleon, fell on their knees and kissed the holy books which he had returned to them. Bonaparte's clemency surprised not only them but especially the French, soldiers and civilians alike, who grumbled that it would be interpreted as mere weakness. Despite their criticisms and dire prognostications, Bonaparte stubbornly persisted in his forgiveness.

 'Bonaparte Forgiving the Rebels of Cairo' became a favorite subject of painters and engravers during the Napoleonic era. Their representations do not give the faintest idea of what actually happened.

One day, not long after his return from Egypt, Bonaparte made some interesting comments on the clemency scene in the last act of Corneille's Cinna. Cinna has plotted against the life of Augustus; Augustus, instead of punishing him, holds out his hand in friendship: 'Soyons amis, Cinna.' Corneille, remarked Bonaparte, was a poet who understood politics. 'For instance, not long ago I found the explanation of the denouement in Cinna. At first, all I saw in it was a device for a touching fifth act. Moreover, clemency in itself is such a miserable petty virtue, unless it rests on political motives....But one day Monvel, playing that part in my presence, revealed to me the secret of that grand conception. He said the line, "Let us be friends, Cinna," with such a cunning and wily expression that I understood that his action was merely a tyrant's feint, and what had seemed to me a puerile sentiment I now approved as a calculated ruse.

Since the sheiks were the only reliable tools he had in Egypt; since, at any rate, it would have been difficult to prove anything against them; and since he counted on their help to pacify the people, Bonaparte's clemcy toward them was untainted by any humanitarian sentimentality. In fact, while he allowed them to kiss his hands in gratitude, certain orders he had given to General Berthier were being carried out at the Citadel: 'You will have the goodness, Citizen General, to order the commandant of Cairo to have the heads of all prisoners taken arms-in-hand cut off. They will be taken to the bank of the Nile ... after dark; their headless corpses will be thrown into the river.' Aside from these prisoners, eighty members of the 'Divan of Defence' (the rebellious junta) were executed at the Citadel. 'They were people of a violent and irreconcilable turn of mind,' Napoleon commented twenty years later. A public show of clemency to the blameless; executions of the recalcitrant in secret and at night - the formula would have won Machiavelli's approval. [Bonaparte in Egypt, J. Christopher Herold, p. 214-215]