Auguste Rodin was kind of a nightmare for the city officials of Calais. In 1884, they wanted a monument. They wanted something heroic, something that screamed "patriotism" in that stiff, 19th-century way where everyone looks like a god and nobody looks like they’re actually suffering. Instead, Rodin gave them The Burghers of Calais, a bronze gut-punch that basically redefined what public art could be. He didn't give them a victory lap; he gave them a funeral march.
If you’ve ever seen the sculpture in person—whether it’s the original in France, the one in London’s Victoria Tower Gardens, or the cast at the Rodin Museum in Philly—you know it feels weird. It’s heavy. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. That’s because Rodin wasn’t interested in the "glory" of the Hundred Years' War. He was obsessed with the psychological breakdown of men who think they’re about to die.
The 1347 Hostage Crisis You Probably Forgot
Let’s back up. The year is 1347. The English King Edward III has been besieging the French port of Calais for almost a year. People are starving. The city is done. Edward offers a deal, but it’s a cruel one: he’ll spare the city if six of its top citizens—the "burghers"—surrender themselves to him.
They have to walk out with their heads bare, wearing nothing but sackcloth and nooses around their necks. They have to carry the keys to the city. The implication? They’re getting executed.
Jean Froissart, the chronicler who recorded this, says the richest man in town, Eustache de Saint Pierre, stood up first. Five others followed. This is the moment Rodin chose. But while most artists would have shown Eustache leading the pack like a brave general, Rodin shows six individuals absolutely spiraling in their own private hells.
Why Rodin’s Version Pissed Everyone Off
The committee in Calais was expecting a pyramid. You know the type: the main hero on top, the lesser heroes at the bottom, everything pointing toward the sky. It’s the "Great Man" theory of history in bronze form.
Rodin said no.
💡 You might also like: Why Every Mom and Daughter Photo You Take Actually Matters
He designed The Burghers of Calais as a cluster. There is no center. No one man is more important than the other. If you walk around it, the "front" of the sculpture keeps changing. One second you're looking at Eustache’s slumped shoulders, the next you’re staring at the agonizingly large hands of Jean d'Aire.
The hands. Seriously, look at the hands.
Rodin made them disproportionately large. They’re swollen, veiny, and heavy. To Rodin, the hands were just as expressive as the face. Jean d'Aire is clutching the giant keys to the city so hard his knuckles look like they’re about to burst through the bronze. It’s not "noble" strength; it’s the white-knuckled grip of a man who has lost everything.
The city council hated it. They called it "depressing." They thought the men looked "defeated" rather than "heroic." They even tried to get him to change the heights so Eustache looked more prominent. Rodin, being Rodin, basically told them to deal with it. He wanted the viewers to feel like they were standing in the mud with these guys. He actually fought to have the sculpture placed directly on the ground, without a pedestal, so people would have to walk among the figures. The city refused that part—at least at first—and stuck it on a high base anyway. It took decades for his vision of a ground-level monument to actually happen.
A Study in Human Terror
The genius of this piece is how it captures six different ways to handle a death sentence.
- Eustache de Saint Pierre: The old man at the front. He’s resigned. His head is bowed, his shoulders are dropped. He’s just... done.
- Jean d'Aire: He’s the angry one. Stiff as a board, jaw set. He’s carrying the keys, and he looks like he wants to use them as a weapon.
- Andrieu d'Andres: This is the guy who breaks your heart. He has his head in his hands. It’s pure, unadulterated despair.
- Pierre and Jacques de Wissant: They’re brothers. One is looking back, maybe at the city they’re leaving, while the other seems to be gesturing in disbelief.
Rodin didn't use one model. He used several, but he also experimented with "assemblage." He’d sculpt a head, then try it on different bodies. He was trying to find the perfect marriage of anatomy and emotion. He even studied the "Gate of Hell" for years, which influenced the twisted, expressive limbs you see here.
📖 Related: Sport watch water resist explained: why 50 meters doesn't mean you can dive
There’s this sense of weight. The heavy wool of the sackcloth doesn't look like fabric; it looks like lead. It’s pulling them down toward the earth where they’re supposedly about to be buried. It’s a masterclass in using material to convey a physical and emotional burden.
The Twist Ending (History Version)
In a weird bit of historical irony, the burghers didn't actually die.
The English Queen, Philippa of Hainault, was pregnant at the time. She supposedly fell at King Edward’s feet and begged him to spare the men, fearing that executing them would bring a curse upon her unborn child. Edward relented. He gave them some clothes, gave them dinner, and sent them home.
Does that make the sculpture less powerful? Honestly, no. Because for the several hours it took to walk from the city gates to the English camp, those six men were dead. They had already made the mental transition from "living citizen" to "sacrificial lamb." Rodin captures that transition—the moment where life is still there, but the soul is already processing the end.
The Legacy of the Lump
Today, there are twelve original casts of The Burghers of Calais around the world. (French law eventually capped the number of "original" casts from Rodin’s molds to twelve to keep them from being mass-produced).
It’s considered one of the first truly modern monuments. Before this, monuments were about the state, the victory, and the legend. Rodin made it about the individual, the doubt, and the dirt. He stripped away the armor and the horses and left us with six guys in rags.
👉 See also: Pink White Nail Studio Secrets and Why Your Manicure Isn't Lasting
Artists like Henry Moore and Giacometti look back at this piece as a turning point. It broke the "idealized" human form. It proved that you could make something ugly and beautiful at the same time. It’s "ugly" because it shows fear and physical decay, but it’s beautiful because it’s profoundly honest.
How to "Read" the Sculpture if You Visit
If you find yourself standing in front of a cast of The Burghers of Calais, don't just stand back and take a photo. You’ve got to move.
- Walk through it. If the cast is at ground level, walk between the men. Notice how they don't look at each other. They are experiencing this collective trauma in total isolation.
- Look at the feet. Their feet are enormous and flat on the ground. They look rooted, like they’re struggling to take every single step. It’s the visual representation of "heavy feet."
- Find the "V" shapes. Rodin uses sharp, angular lines in their limbs to create tension. There’s nothing soft or circular here.
- Check the lighting. If you’re at the Rodin Museum in Paris, see it as the sun goes down. The deep recesses of the bronze create shadows that make the faces look even more hollowed out.
Actionable Insights for Art Lovers
Understanding The Burghers of Calais changes how you look at all public monuments. Next time you see a statue of a politician or a general on a high plinth, ask yourself: What is this hiding? Rodin’s work teaches us that true bravery isn't the absence of fear—it's acting while you're absolutely terrified. To get the most out of this masterpiece:
- Read the primary source: Look up Jean Froissart’s Chronicles for the original 14th-century account. It’s surprisingly dramatic.
- Compare the casts: If you're an art nerd, compare the Hirshhorn (DC) cast with the one in London. The environment changes how the bronze looks and feels.
- Study Rodin’s hands: Look at his other works like The Cathedral or The Hand of God. You’ll start to see how he used extremities as a second "face" for his subjects.
Rodin didn't want to decorate a city square. He wanted to haunt it. Seven centuries after the siege of Calais, and over a hundred years after the bronze was poured, he’s still doing exactly that.
Next Steps for Your Research
To truly appreciate the scale of this work, visit the Musée Rodin website to view high-resolution 360-degree captures of the original plaster models. These reveal the finger marks and "seams" Rodin left in the clay, offering a raw look at his process that the polished bronze sometimes hides. If you are in London, head to Victoria Tower Gardens next to Parliament; it is one of the few places where the sculpture is situated exactly as Rodin intended—accessible, on the ground, and set against a backdrop of political power. For a deeper dive into the technical side, search for the National Gallery of Art’s conservation papers on Rodin’s casting techniques to understand how these massive bronzes were actually built.