Théodore Géricault

French painter

• Born: September 26, 1791
• Birthplace: Rouen, France
• Died: January 26, 1824
• Place of death: Paris, France

Géricault helped to move French art away from neoclassicism, which was the dominant form between the revolutionary and Napoleonic eras, into new, more modern directions. Nineteenth century Romantic and realistic painters alike claimed to have been inspired by his work.

Early Life

Jean-Louis-André-Théodore Géricault (zhay-ree-koh) was a descendant of a respectable Norman line. His father, Georges-Nicolas Géricault, a prosperous lawyer and later businessperson, was forty-eight at the birth of his only child. His mother, Louise-Jeanne-Marie (née Caruel), had turned thirty-nine.

The Géricaults moved to Paris around 1796. Théodore soon entered boarding school and in 1806 commenced study at the Lycée Impérial, an academy known for its fine, classical education. Only an average student, he nevertheless showed artistic talent. Théodore also was fortunate to have been taught by Pierre Bouillon, winner of the 1797 Grand Prix de Rome. Géricault later competed for this government-sponsored award, which carried with it art study in Italy.

The death of his mother in 1808 caused Théodore to reconsider his circumstances. It also brought him closer to home: Théodore decided that he had had enough of academic training and decided to live with Georges-Nicolas. Furthermore, his mother’s large estate and his father’s business interests allowed the young man to devote himself wholly to art, without concern for finances. One obstacle remained: Georges-Nicolas objected to Théodore’s career pursuit. With moral support from his maternal uncle, Jean-Baptiste Caruel, the younger Géricault allegedly went to work but actually entered the studio of Carle Vernet. Thus, Géricault eased his way into art.

Life’s Work

According to the professional codes of the day, enrollment in a master’s studio was the first of many steps toward status as a painter. Géricault’s affinity for Vernet, primarily an equestrian artist, appears logical: One of Géricault’s first actions after the death of his mother had been to buy a horse.

As a teacher, Vernet ran a loose studio, providing his own atmosphere and personal warmth but little artistic direction. Géricault nevertheless maintained a lifelong enthusiasm for both riding and equestrian art. The early twentieth century Parisian critic Louis Dimier ventured, “Only when it came to horses did he paint to perfection.” This verdict is open to much scrutiny. It may be more accurate to say that Géricault took equestrian painting from a rather stodgy, still form and gave it life, placing the animals in motion and illustrating their diverse work and sporting roles. To do that, he frequently employed gouache or watercolor washes with brown ink or pencil on beige paper. However, Géricault used oils for his larger, more ambitious works.

After spending roughly two years in Vernet’s studio, Géricault may have felt the need for a more rigorous, professional approach. He then became affiliated with Pierre-Narcisse Guérin, a painter who had attained considerable renown in his day and owed inspiration to the revered Jacques-Louis David . A method instructor, Guérin required his students—Eugène Delacroix also was one of them—to paint antiquarian and heavenly subjects. Géricault, however, asserted his individuality. During a particular session, he first began to copy, then radically alter, the composition of his master’s work. When queried by a perturbed Guérin, the younger artist allegedly responded, “I had taken it into my head to inject some energy into it, and you can imagine how that turned out.” Géricault stayed with the classical painter for only eleven months, into 1811. He then studied independently, frequenting the Louvre. Most authorities admit that the young artist was influenced by the warm colors, brush techniques, and lifelike images of Peter-Paul Rubens, Titian, and the Italian masters.

If scholars disagree on Géricault’s style, perhaps this stems from the fact that contemporary French society underwent many changes quickly—from the turbulent Revolution to the Napoleonic conquests to the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy. Some of the democratic ideals advocated during the Revolution, for example, harked back to classical Greece and Rome; hence, the philosophical commitment and tremendous popularity of the neoclassicist David. Napoleon I , on the other hand, sought to ennoble his own image and contributions. In 1810, the emperor identified two thematic classifications—historic and current—by which the government-sponsored Salon was to judge its art competition. Napoleon also brought to Paris cultural riches from his far-flung conquered lands, rendering the Louvre a truly eclectic treasure chest. Thus, Géricault benefited from a much broader exposure than did, for example, David.

If influences were widening, the attainment of status followed an established track. Géricault therefore enrolled in the École des Beaux Arts and, because of his affiliation, began to enter competitions. Certainly the largest and best known of these, the Salon, accepted his Charging Chasseur for its 1812 exhibition. Géricault’s work depicted a mounted officer of the Imperial Guard, poised for action. Although executed quickly, it won critical acclaim, more so, in fact, than any of Géricault’s subsequent Salon showings. The Charging Chasseur—with its warm colors and effective sense of light and motion—also emphasized the artist’s interest in military subjects.

Two years later, the Salon displayed both the Charging Chasseur and a new creation, the Wounded Cuirassier (1814). Reception this time proved to be rather poor. The less buoyant tone of the Wounded Cuirassier followed Napoleon’s military losses, but the critical ambivalence also may be attributed to stylistic factors and disappointment over the painting’s failure to fulfill expectations.

In 1816, Géricault vied for the top award: the Prix de Rome. When he did not capture the honors, he decided to finance his own studies in Italy. Personal as well as art-related reasons motivated him: Géricault had become involved with Alexandrine-Modeste de Saint-Martin Caruel, his uncle’s young wife. Perhaps the painter was depressed over this relationship, or maybe he sought foreign refuge before the family became embroiled in a full-fledged scandal. His affair with Alexandrine, continuing after his return from Italy, never proved to be happy, although it produced one son, Georges-Hippolyte, in 1818.

Géricault’s Italian odyssey lasted for a year, during which time he became entranced with the work of Michelangelo and other masters. The youthful painter also witnessed a uniquely Roman event, the riderless horse race of Barberi, which meshed his artistic and equestrian interests. Although Géricault rendered many sketches of this intended life-size project, it remained unfinished. Most authorities agree that the tall, slender, handsome painter—with his curly reddish-blond hair and deep-set eyes—was suffering from a lack of confidence. The artistic grandeur of Rome possibly aggravated his perceived inadequacies.

Returning to France in September, 1817, Géricault resumed his friendship with Horace Vernet, the son of his former teacher and an artist in his own right. It was under Vernet’s influence that Géricault first produced lithographs, again using military subjects as a theme. However, the works hardly sold. Knowing of Géricault’s financial independence, his art publisher even advised him to seek another career.

Disappointed over the lithographs and with his child on the way, Géricault spent eighteen intensive months preparing the most important work of his life, The Raft of the Medusa (1818-1819), which was based on a controversial contemporary event. A government frigate, the Medusa, sank off the coast of Africa, largely because of the incompetence of its captain, who owed his commission to political patronage. The errant officer also retained the most serviceable lifeboats for himself and his friends, forcing the rest of the passengers to construct a raft from the sinking ship’s parts. Of the 149 people stranded aboard the improvised vessel, only fifteen survived. Cannibalism, among other horrors, had occurred.

Géricault tackled his project in the manner of a chronicler: He interviewed the survivors and went to local hospitals and morgues to observe the dead and dying. Intensely committed to a realistic portrayal, he prepared numerous sketches. A model, possibly commenting on this frenetic process, said, “Monsieur Géricault had to have complete silence, nobody dared speak or move near him; the least thing disturbed him.”

The dramatic, monumental masterpiece—measuring sixteen by twenty-four feet—appeared in the Salon of 1819 but bore the brunt of debate. Disparate factions blamed one another for the circumstances that ultimately determined the Medusa’s fate, and many argued about Géricault’s political interpretations. Writing in typically partisan journals, art critics also viewed the painting harshly. Its dark tones and frank depiction of human torment also worked against it. Nevertheless, the Salon awarded Géricault a medal for his labor of love. One judge even commissioned him to do another painting. Fatigued from the intensive preparation and controversial aftermath of The Raft of the Medusa, however, Géricault transferred the proposed assignment to his friend Delacroix. French art circles may have been divided in their assessment of The Raft of the Medusa, but in 1820 an English gallery owner invited Géricault to show his work in London, where it was praised. The painting subsequently traveled to Dublin.

Géricault returned to Paris in December, 1821. The following year, a friend who specialized in mental disorders commissioned the artist to paint portraits of ten psychiatric patients; five of these portraits survive. Notwithstanding the radical changes in psychiatry, the series deserves respect for its realistic approach: a study of men and women with problems rather than the subhumans popularly perceived during the early nineteenth century.

A normal existence, and therefore painting, would become increasingly difficult for Géricault toward the end of his life. In 1822, he suffered two falls while horseback riding. Undaunted, he continued to pursue his favorite sport and also to sketch more advanced versions of African Slave Trade (1823) and Liberation of the Prisoners of the Spanish Inquisition (1823). Both of these paintings took an enlightened view; the second was critical of the restored Bourbon monarchy.

Géricault never allowed his wounds to heal properly. By 1823, the riding injuries caused his spine to deteriorate. Doctors operated several times but ultimately failed to save him. Géricault died on January 26, 1824, at the age of thirty-two.

Significance

The three paintings that Théodore Géricault exhibited during his lifetime currently hang in the Louvre, testimony to his endurance as an artist. When his studio was cleared for sale ten months after his death, many works surfaced, far more than had been known to exist.

Géricault likely doubted his compositional and drawing skills and, therefore, sketched numerous life studies before proceeding with a master painting. Once confident of his ability to portray people and events realistically, he added the motion, lighting effects, and drama that often characterize him as a Romantic. If experts disagree on Géricault’s style, they also ponder his social consciousness. The artist, in his later years, expanded his repertoire from military and equestrian themes to controversial political subjects and studies of the downtrodden. During his British tenure, for example, he sketched a public hanging, a paralytic woman, and an impoverished man. Géricault nevertheless became increasingly enamored of the relatively highbrow, distinctly English, equestrian crowd.

The artist’s premature death left his life open to speculation and, occasionally, legend. Yet, from 1824 through much of the twentieth century, various patrons of the arts—collectors, gallery owners, scholars, and museum directors—have shown consistent interest in what now appear to be his prodigious efforts.

Bibliography

Alhadeff, Albert. The Raft of the Medusa: Géricault, Art, and Race. Munich, Germany: Prestel, 2002. Alhadeff analyzes this artwork, describing how it reflects early abolitionist sentiment and was one of the first times a work of European art used a black figure to symbolize the hopes of all humanity.

Canaday, John. The Lives of the Painters. Vol. 3 in Neoclassic to Post-Impressionist. New York: W. W. Norton, 1969. A chapter describing the classic-Romantic schism in France contains a short synopsis of Géricault’s life and creative output. The painter appears as a prominent force, whose work embodied a number of nineteenth century trends.

Eitner, Lorenz. Géricault. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1971. Text accompanies this catalog of 125 paintings (plates) displayed during a 1971 exhibition. The introductory chapter mostly discusses the posthumous fame and changing perceptions of Géricault’s art. Also includes a ten-page timeline and a table of exhibitions and literature.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗. Géricault: His Life and Work. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1982. Fusing biography and art history, nearly four hundred pages yield a comprehensive study of Géricault. Extremely useful for assessing the creative process: how his original ideas and subject matter changed during the course of a painting. Contains many color and black-and-white plates.

Grigsby, Darcy Grimaldo. Extremities: Painting Empire in Post-Revolutionary France. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2002. Analyzes six paintings by four artists, including Géricault’s The Raft of the Medusa. Grigsby argues these paintings depict the history and politics of the French colonial empire, an empire that forced painters who previously advocated freedom to depict slavery and cultural and racial differences.

Grunchec, Philippe. Géricault’s Horses: Drawings and Watercolors. New York: Vendome Press, 1985. Although more than an equestrian artist, Géricault elevated the genre to new heights and broadened its dimensions. This book examines horse painting as the primary nexus between the master’s career and outside life. Contains a bibliography, a chronology of exhibitions, and numerous plates, most of which are in color.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗. Master Drawings by Géricault. Washington, D.C.: International Exhibitions Foundation, 1985. Heavily illustrated with reproductions of Géricault’s sketches, this work seeks to demonstrate his stylistic and thematic tendencies. Text also discusses friends and other artists who influenced him, as well as the posthumous dispersal of his art. Contains a timeline and a well-annotated list of paintings.

Lethève, Jacques. Daily Life of French Artists in the Nineteenth Century. Translated by Hilary E. Paddon. New York: Praeger, 1972. The book offers insights into how artists lived, executed and marketed their work, and gained recognition. Students of Géricault will find several interesting details and quotations, but the most important contribution is an understanding of the institutions (such as the Salon) that made an impact upon his professional career. Contains notes, a bibliography, and illustrations.

Whitney, Wheelock. Géricault in Italy. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1997. Whitney creates a detailed account of Géricault’s year in Italy (1817) with emphasis on the works produced during this time and the influence the trip had on his later career.