1841 Batissier – Géricault III
Géricault Life
Louis Batissier published the first major biographical study of Théodore Géricault in the Revue du Dix-Neuvième Siècle in 1841. Enjoy the final section of Batissier’s influential essay which concludes with select samples of Théodore Géricault’s own writings on art.
Géricault
“…We know that Géricault sometimes visited Baron Gérard. One day Géricault expressed to him the real desire he harbored to travel far, and to seek a life of adventure in foreign lands. He spoke of visiting the Orient and of going to Jerusalem. Gérard, stunned, tried to dissuade him from such a plan.
‘What is lacking in your life here?,’ he said to him, ‘You were born rich, you have talent, and your first efforts in the practice of a difficult art have been crowned with success. What is the good of travel in countries practically unknown? Do you not here have an inexhaustible source of inspiration?’
‘That which I lack,’ said Géricault, ‘are the trials of misfortune.’
These trials, as we shall see, would soon arrive.
As for Gros, Géricault had an admiration for the artist which bordered on fanaticism. Each work of the master was the subject of the most serious meditations for the young painter. He went endlessly to view and study them. He would then return to his home and translate his impressions onto canvas. He made copies from memory, which undoubtably captured the originality of the elder artist. However, Géricault distrusted his admiration of Gros, completely legitimate as it was, and warily guarded against this influence, fearing that he might follow too servilely in his footsteps.
Here is a story which gives some idea of the enthusiasm Géricault retained for the paintings of this famous painter. One day, Géricault went to see one of his friends, and after a short time announced that he would return home to take to his bed because he was suffering greatly. He left, sad and overwhelmed. A few hours later, his friend went to pay a visit upon Mr. Belloc, a distinguished painter of our days. Together they discussed a painting by Gros which Mr. Belloc had in his studio, the Battle of Nazareth. They decided to go and view it and climbed the stairs up to the studio. What did they find there? Géricault, whom Mr. Belloc had forgotten. Géricault was standing with his eyes fixed upon the canvas of Gros, absorbed in profound reflexion. He had been there in a state of contemplation for several hours and had entirely forgotten his illness and his sorrows. Géricault judged the new production from the painter of the Plague Victims of Jaffa to be so beautiful that he paid one thousand francs to the happy owner of the Battle of Nazareth for the right to execute a copy. (The painting had been purchased for a little more than two thousand francs.)
We can easily imagine the value Géricault attached to the opinion of Gros. Indeed, a single word from Gros crushed the painter of the Medusa. A discussion praising the talent of the young artist occurred while Gros was present. Gros agreed that Gericault was one of those from whom much more would come. “But,” he added, “he will need several palettes of blood.” Géricault was made aware of these remarks and despaired. He very nearly decided to abandon his career as an artist, and remained stripped of any desire to paint for some time.
The government, however, following the showing of a piece of the importance of the Shipwreck of the Medusa, believed it must reward Géricault. However, he was not commissioned to paint a battle, or some historic scene, as one might imagine, but instead a painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. A composition in this genre did not at all suit the talent of the artist, nor did he wish to do it. So, he consigned the execution to Mr. Eugène Delacroix who, then still quite young, regarded this commission as good fortune. Mr. Delacroix completed the commission, but we do not know where his painting is now.
In the meantime Géricault departed for England. There he received the idea of exhibiting his Shipwreck of the Medusa. “I saw,” said he in a letter, “several paintings which cannot help but give me confidence. The English school is not at all distinguished, except by subjects of everyday life, the countryside, and marine scenes.” He believed he had every reason to hope for success. An Englishman accepted the costs, and promised him a share of the rewards. As with all the exhibitions which are held by our neighbors, one paid to view the work of Géricault in London and Dublin. The artist produced a lithograph to promote the exhibition. Unfortunately no copies of this piece any longer exist. The exhibition reportedly earned him around twenty thousand francs, which proves that in England the work of our countryman was better judged than in France.
But Géricault did not remain idle in London. This is what he wrote to his friend, Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy [Pierre de Dreux d’Orcy] : “I live my life here precisely as I did in Paris. I work a great deal in my room; then, to relax and free myself, I wander the streets, where there is always such a powerful variety and movement that I am certain you could never leave it. Wisdom, I sense it, becomes more my lot day by day. Yet, despite this, I remain the most foolish of all sages, for my desires are always insatiable, and no matter what I do, some different goal always leads me in a new direction…For some time I have been committed to lithography which enjoys an inconceivable vogue, being totally new in London. I am certain that one with more tenacity than I possess could make a considerable fortune. I flatter myself that these lithographs will not be much more than advertisements to bring my name before real collectors who, upon learning of my talents, will employ me in labors of greater merit. You call this ambition, but I am simply striking while the iron is hot. And since I am now more encouraged about my prospects, I send straight to the devil all the Sacred Hearts of Jesus; for in that course lies the true profession of beggars, to die of starvation. I reject the sandals and the sacred scripture, and retreat into the stable, from which I will only depart clothed in gold…”
In this respect, however, the hopes of Géricault were disappointed. He completed twelve lithographs for his London editors, which are today extremely rare and are perhaps the most beautiful to ever come from his pencil. These were highly regarded, but the number sold did not cover the costs. He was obliged to pay one guinea to his editor in the end, and was therefore quite mistaken in imagining he had discovered the means to amass a fortune.
Géricault returned from London more passionate than ever about horses. He had several in his stable, and every moment he did not consecrate to painting he spent riding, and in racing. He was an excellent equestrian and had marvelous form. Had he wanted, he could have written a treatise on horsemanship like no other. However, he was born to study the horse as an artist, and one who loved to paint the animal in all its forms and all its varieties. He made innumerable sketches and drawings in this genre.
Yet, he also made time to execute studies after nature, and with the same passion. Whenever Géricault saw a man with a handsome head, whether he was a soldier, or a vagabond, he begged him to pose. Thus it was that he encountered four or five Turks in the streets of Paris one day, whose physiognomies and costumes captured his attention. These poor men who had been cast upon the shores of France not far from Marseilles and who were travelling to London, were at the consul of their nation nearby. Géricault brought the men to his home so he could paint them. One of these individuals, who called himself Moustapha, told him that his companions were thieves, and that he very much wanted to quit their company. Géricault suggested Moustapha remain with him and enter his service; the Turk accepted this position with joy and kissed the hands of his new master as symbol of understanding.
Moustapha lived several years with Géricault and served him with an extraordinary loyalty and devotion. He slept on a mat at the door of his master’s bedroom and cared for him with a rare solicitude. However, the habits and the face of this man ended up frightening the father of Géricault, who succeed in expelling him. Moustapha had some money saved. He began trading in pastilles of the seraglio and so amassed a small fortune. He never forgot the good actions of his master, however. At the death of Géricault, one saw him among the crowd of mourners, tears filling his eyes, his hair in disorder, carrying ashes in the corner of his robe, which he cast upon his head in handfuls as a sign of grief.
Géricault’s health had been poor since his return from London. He felt weak and fatigued, and suffered always from a sciatic malady which he had acquired during a boat trip upon the Thames. A fall soon added to the gravity of his ills. He was thrown by his horse and hurled forcefully upon a stone during a ride with Mr. Horace Vernet on the Montmartre. Géricault suffered an extremely dangerous wound to his spine as a result, one which kept him bedridden for some time. But he was not a man to wait patiently for a complete recuperation. Even though he carried an abscess in his left side, he left by carriage for Fontainbleau. As he was dismounting at the the Court of France, his horse broke free and damaged his carriage. Géricault was determined to complete his journey despite this setback. With his abscess, continuing the trip bareback by horse seemed to him a difficult challenge. To be free of this difficulty, he tried with all his power to force open the stable with a file, and experienced all the pain in the world performing this brutal operation alone. Then, without taking any account of his injury, he threw a blanket upon the back of his horse and departed at a great gallop for Fontainbleau. You understand that such imprudences could only greatly aggravate his already unhealthy state. But no matter how gracious Géricault was with his friends, he was severe towards himself. It was said that he took pleasure in braving pain. Sometime after the journey we have just described, he rode to the Champ de Mars to see the races. There he collided with another rider, which resulted in a long and violent struggle to regain control of his horse, such that his abscess spread to his thigh. After this new accident, he was placed in the home of Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy, where he remained for a year to recover his health. Eventually, through the healing of time and the power of care, he was cured. The abscess disappeared.
It was during his convalescence that Géricault had Mr. Leon Cogniet reproduce six of the lithographs which he had published during his time in London. Mr. Volmar also made six other lithographs, also representing horses, for which Géricault provided the finishing touch, especially to the heads and joints, we are assured.
When he was returned to health, Géricault did a great deal of work; he executed several mounted paintings, some beautiful watercolors and a great number of studies. He had a project to produce a painting depicting the Trade in Negroes, and had even assembled several studies for this subject. Another subject which keenly interested him was the Opening of the Gates of the Inquisition in Spain. He wanted to paint this scene upon an immense canvas, making a sort of panorama of the crowds of unfortunates released from the prisons of the Sainte-Hermandad. He had the greatest interest in a project to execute an equestrian statute. Like most great artists of the Renaissance, he wanted to be both a painter and a sculptor. Indeed, he left us several groups in wax borrowed from the motifs of his paintings, and the Flayed Horse, a model of the musculature of a horse in the antique style and molded in plaster, which is regarded as the best work of this kind.
Géricault divided his life between the study of art and the study of letters; but he happily committed himself to music in moments of leisure. He had a charming voice and composed his own airs, which he sang with exquisite taste. As his painting began to obtain for him honorable success, he had every reason to hope that his talent might finally be better appreciated and provide the glory which was the sole end of his ambition. Unfortunately, this was not to be.
It was when he was working with the greatest enthusiasm, producing his most beautiful paintings in his studio on the rue des Martyrs, that he succumbed to a new illness. The abscess, from which he had formerly suffered, reappeared again; and from this moment on his health went from bad to worse. The efforts of science could do nothing against this disease which so gravely afflicted him. He began a period of long and cruel suffering, which he endured with a resignation, serenity of soul, and dignified courage entirely consistent with his great character. In a state of frightening exhaustion, Géricault finally died on the 18th of January, 1824, in the arms of colonel Bro and Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy, who nursed him with the greatest care and the most affectionate devotion during his illness. (Mr. Ary Scheffer produced a painting depicting Géricault in death and colonel Bro and Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy at the foot of the funeral bed.) A great number of friends, eyes filled with tears, accompanied the painter to his final repose, mourning him not only as an eminent artist, but also as a man of heart.
This was the end for Géricault. He fell in the prime of his life and talents, at the point in his life where one produces the most serious and enduring works. One can say of him that he devoted the major part of his time to study. Even so, the number of paintings which he did manage to produce is considerable. In addition to the Charging Chasseur and the Wounded Cavalryman, which form part of the gallery of the Palais Royal, and the Shipwreck of the Medusa, which is at the Louvre Museum, one can name from Géricault: a Stable Boy, his first painting, which the Society of Friends of the Arts of Paris refused to purchase for the modest sum of four hundred francs; a Norman Horse Leaving the Stable, conserved in the Chateau de Neuilly; an Elite Cavalier, which belongs to Mr. Musigny; a Live Fire Exercise on the Plains of Grenelle; a Forge; and, finally, a Child Giving Feed to a Horse. These two last compositions appeared at the exhibition of 1824. Géricault left a great number of watercolors on all sorts of subjects. To this enumeration, we add a folio of drawings in pen and in pencil, and ninety to one hundred lithographs.*
(*A collector of lithographs, Mr. Bruzard, has gathered ninety-four lithographs executed by Géricault. Of this number, we cite the dozen pieces published in London and the dozen pieces published in Paris. Each of these volumes is enriched by a frontispiece in ink. Of the second volume, six lithographs were executed by Leon Cogniet, and six by Volmar, but Gericault retouched these. While in London, he also published six designs in pen drawn upon thin paper, and, finally, a solo piece representing a trumpeter.)
Géricault made a good number of individual lithographs. We cite first the Battle of Maïpa; and that of Chabuco; and as well the Equestrian Portrait of Don Jose de Saint-Martin; Bonaparte in Egypt; Bonaparte Traversing Saint-Bernard; two drawings commissioned, but rejected, by the editors of the work entitled Victories and Conquests; a dozen studies of horses of different breeds published by Gihaut; four lithographs for the History of Napoleon by Arnaud; and six subjects with Mr. Eugene Lamy for an edition of the works of Lord Byron. Among the individual pieces, we cite above all: the Boxers; a Wounded Trumpeter Sheltered by a Mameluke; a Grenadier Putting the Match to the Breach; Return from Russia; the Call to Arms of the Cavaliers; the Hussars’ Horses Fighting; and diverse subjects of lions devouring horses. In all the lithographs which we have just cited, we find again and again the energetic touch which distinguishes Gericault. They are all composed with limitless spirit. Many are very rare. There are just six prints of the Hussars’ Horses, for example. We have no need to explain that today all of these lithographs are highly sought after. Mr. Bruzard gathered the major part. At the sale held after the death of this collector, the royal Library purchased the Works of Géricault, which included all the pieces which we just cited and many others as well.
This is the body of work of Géricault. All the paintings, the drawings, and sketches, which filled his studio, were sold shortly after his death. Nearly all the studies after the old masters were acquired by Eugène Delacroix, who still possesses them. The Shipwreck of the Medusa found no purchaser. In desperation Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy bought it for six thousand francs! He understood that this was a piece which must figure in the gallery of the Louvre, and he would not allow it to fall into the hands of foreigners. He offered it to the administration of royal museums, a body which refused the chance of acquisition at first. Finally, after a good many meetings and solicitations, Mr. Dedreux-Dorcy managed to sell the admirable painting to the government, which paid Mr. Dorcy the exact sum of money he had selflessly invested to conserve this important work for France. Reflect upon these facts, which prove how the rewards which are accorded the arts are ineffectual for the most part. We are sure that future generations will find it difficult to believe that he encountered so many difficulties, and so much ill will, while attempting to provide the national Museum with one of the most precious canvases it now possesses.
Having given an account of the life of Géricault, it remains for us to make known that which he thought of the practice and theory of art. We possess some notes which are written in his hand, and which well deserve our interest. We must not forget that it was Géricault who raised the first standard of the revolt against the exclusive principles of the academic school, while still a student in the studio of Guérin; and it was Géricault who was the first of the Empire’s painters to march with a strong and independent voice, a voice which is now followed by the greater part of the painters of our time. He explained his ideas and theories to several of his friends during their walks together in Montmorency. Géricault did not conceal his low regard for the stiff and uniform styles of the painters of the classical school. He also stated that an artist must give himself up to his inspiration only after he had acquired a great understanding of art, by meticulous studies, and by serious work, such that drawing cleanly and neatly had become the normal and natural state in the artist. He desired that a painter be as sure of his ability to cast a correct figure upon the canvas as Michelangelo, who in a single glance took a statue from a block of marble. He was correct to say that one must move beyond the model if one wanted to depict true and original movement, and create an expression deeply felt. The model always grimaces, and the pose is a burden upon natural expression. He took from the school of David that which was its principal merit: science. He was repelled by the academic poses and conventional arrangements executed by artists, poses and arrangements which then served as the foundation of all paintings. He found nothing of interest in the subjects taken from fables and ancient history. Our national history was entirely fertile and poetic enough in his judgment. He recognized no other contemporaries save David and Gros, the one who produced the Oath of the Tennis Court, and the other who painted the Plague Victims of Jaffa and the Battle of Eylau. He believed both artists would have been less able to display their true talents had they elected to depict subjects from pagan antiquity. Such views, as simple as they appear to us today, were far from acceptable in his own time, and indeed finally prevailed only after a prolonged and painful struggle.
Géricault proposed to combat the theories of art advocated by the writers of his time in a book of his own, and to judge the painters, his contemporaries, according to his own standards. He desired that other artists also make themselves heard, and express their own opinions in the highest manner in order to reform the tastes of the vulgar ignorant.
‘Set aside your tools,’ he said to them, ‘let a quill replace the brush in your hands…Write, deploy your genius so that the profane may be confounded! Prove to all men that a painter must draw his inspiration only from within his soul, that the colors which he employs are the ink to express his thoughts, and that as a passionate admirer of the beauties of nature, all his efforts must be directed to reproducing these in all their brilliance!…’
This was the goal which he proposed. Unfortunately, he was unable to complete his treatise. Nothing but a few short fragments remain, which we here provide. After a passionate preamble, in which he asserts his independence and impartiality, his respect for men of true talent, and his disdain for underserved fame, Géricault refutes several popular ideas, long held, regarding the causes which give life to the most celebrated schools.
‘The superiority of the older schools of Italy, of Flanders and of Holland is widely recognized,’ he observed. ‘This superiority is a fact which one can always avow without fear of wounding the self-esteem of our moderns, especially since they themselves never cease to recommend the study of these masterpieces to students who wish to pursue a career in the arts. One is led to believe the ridiculous notion that the climate contributes to the success of these schools – that Italy, for example, produces skillful illustrators, like America produces coffee; and that the humidity of Holland gave birth to the colorists. The best response to this strange assertion is to note that Italy today is far inferior to France, and that its school no longer produces illustrators, just as one no longer sees colorists bloom under the influence of the mists of Holland…’
‘I dare, therefore, to assign a entirely different cause for the perfection that the arts attained in these diverse countries. Venice, a rich and powerful republic, saw the flowering of painting in its bosom. Holland, mistress of the seas, marked equally the epoch of its grandeur with masterpieces of all genres. The talents which produced these illustrious works disappeared after the loss of their riches and prosperity. The most beautiful climates, thus, saw the liberty which had given birth to genius disappear. The antique laurels of Greece did not flower again under a sun made pallid by slavery…’
‘The fine arts were at no point of the first necessity; they are not owed the opulence of privilege they have taken; thus, they do not merit honor until after the first needs of life have been satisfied. Man, free from worry, had to search for pleasure to preserve him from the boredom which will inevitably disrupt his present state of happiness. It is thus that luxury and the arts became indispensable; they were like nourishment for the imagination, like a second existence for the civilized man. They flourished only out of need and chance, and they also became necessary in a great state, in which they always exist in nascent form…’
Géricault’s observations seem to us very just, and accord perfectly with those given from history. It is beyond doubt that in all the countries where civilization conferred its benefits, the fine arts were nowhere cultivated with as much glory as in the great cities of Italy during the epoch of the renaissance.
In other fragments, Géricault appreciates the value and the merit of David, and the influence that the older schools might exercise upon the future of French painting: ‘…David, the first of our artists, the regenerator of the modern school, owes the success which he has earned, and which attracted the admiration of the entire world, to nothing but his own genius. He borrowed nothing from the preceding schools of France, quite the opposite. Their influence could have been fatal to him if, early on, his tastes had not been driven towards a different order of ideas, tastes which compelled him to entirely reform the absurd and monstrous system of the Vanloos, the Bouchers, the Restouts, and many other painters in possession of an art which they could not help but profane. The study of great masters, and the view of Italy, imprinted on his works this grand character which he always knew to give to historical compositions. Thus, he became the chief of a new school. His principles rapidly informed new talents, in whom the waiting seed needed only his influence to become fecund.’
‘Several other celebrated artists through their own works soon proclaimed the glory of their master, and shared with him the triumph and the fame. – After this first outpouring, this first surge towards the noble and pure style, enthusiasm could not but wane, even as the excellent lessons already received were still yielding fruit, and the efforts of the government continued to favor this laudable impulse given to the arts. But the sacred fire, which alone can produce great things, burned less brightly with each successive day; and our exhibitions, albeit numerous – too numerous even, became less interesting each year. One no longer saw there the noble talents which excite the general imagination, and to which an always just public appreciative of beauty hastens to applaud. Gérard, Gros, and Guérin no longer saw the rise of rivals to match, or challenge their talents. And, while still charged with teaching youths full of generous emulation, one fears that these great men will harbor, at the end of their careers, the regret of not seeing worthy replacements. We would be quite wrong and unjust, however, to accuse our painters of giving less than their full care to the students who come to take their lessons.’
‘So, how do we explain this scarcity of talented artists, which is so evident despite the distribution of medals, the prizes of Rome and the trials of the Academy? I have always believed that a good education would be an indispensable base for all professions, which alone could cover with distinction all of the careers which one might embrace; it nourishes the spirit, enlightens, it renders one more able to discern the goal towards which one must tend. One cannot make the choice of a state before being able to balance the benefits and costs; and, with few exceptions, one does not see much of this kind of taste before the age of sixteen; only at that age can we normally know what it is we wish to do, and when one has all the aptitude necessary for the study of a profession which one chooses by convenience, towards which one is driven by a sense of imperious passion. I wish therefore that the academy of design would not be open except to students who have attained at least the age we have just described. In establishing such a school, the point is not to try to create an entire race of painters which the nation requires, rather the school must only want to offer to true genius the means to develop itself. Yet, instead of that, we have assembled a population of artists. The lure of the prize of Rome, and the ability to enter the Academy, has attracted a crowd of competitors for whom the love of art alone is not the point of painting, competitors who could honor themselves in other professions. Thus, these individuals sacrifice their youth pursuing a success which must escape them, wasting energy which could be better employed otherwise with more profit, both for them and for their country.’
‘I suggest that all the young people admitted to the academy are owed all the talents which must form the painter. Is it not dangerous to see them study together for ten years, under the same masters, subject to the same influences, copying the same models, and following variations of the same route? How can one hope that after all this these young artists will still preserve any originality? Have they not, despite themselves and between themselves, surrendered their individual qualities and defects, and cast, in a sole and similar sentiment, the diverse manners with which each conceives the beauties of nature?’
‘The subtleties which can manage to survive this space of confusion are almost imperceptible. And so it is with true disgust that we see each year ten or twelve compositions of an almost identical execution, each painted one after the other with a sense of hopeless perfection, each offering nothing original, because their authors long ago abnegated their individual sensibilities. Not one of the competitors could hope to preserve the character proper to his own talent. A similar sense of design, a similar color, adjustments made according to the same system – even to the gestures and to expressions of the head, each work seems in these sad infantilizations of our school to have emerged from the same source, inspired by the same soul. Yet, hope remains. If one admits that the soul can still survive amidst this deprivation, conserve intact some of these faculties, and preside over the accomplishment of similar works, I say it can accomplish even more. If obstacles and difficulties are the bane of mediocre men, they are, by way of contrast, essential to genius; they nourish it and exalt it. Genius remains dormant following an easy path; all that opposes and impedes its march forward gives to it a feverish ardor which overthrows, which dominates everything, and gives birth to masterpieces. These are the men, of this calibre, who it is glorious for a nation to have produced. Neither unforeseen events, nor poverty, nor persecution impedes their effort; it is the fire of a volcano which must necessarily force its way into the light, it is an invincible necessity for such men to shine, to stun the world. Does one hope that with our schools we can create painters of this calibre? Unfortunately, the Academy, far from producing such miracles, extinguishes in the students who enter its care, the few sparks of sacred fire which might animate them. The Academy chokes their faculties by refusing to allow nature to nurture and develop them; and in desiring to produce precocious fruit, it deprives itself of those who with a slower maturation would have given forth much more satisfying results.’
Géricault understood clearly the causes which bestow this depressing uniformity upon our school, causes which excluded all possibility of progress. Yet, today we can no longer make the same criticisms in the same absolute manner. There is more variety in the manner of painting of the artists who now honor our country than in the past. Mr. Ingres, Mr. Delaroche, Mr. Horace Vernet, Mr. Delacroix, Mr. Léon Cogniet, Mr. Drolling each employ different approaches to training the students who frequent their studios. Thus, we now witness the birth of more diverse talents. There is more variety in the styles of painting of artists which our nation honors today than in the past. However, be sure that the strong, who are truly built for the practice of art, like Géricault, finish by escaping the studio, and always preserve their natural originality.
That Géricault did not leave more than just a few, short notes on the book he proposed to write is a real regret, for we find useful instruction in his reflexions. He would have almost certainly taught us about the series of studies which he made, and about the challenges he faced in his fight to innovate. Death took him in the midst of his career, preventing him from giving voice to his ideas and sentiments. When he saw his end, he could tap his forehead and say, as André Chénier did while mounting the scaffold, “I still have much to do!…”
Be that as it may, and despite the small number of paintings which he left behind, Géricault will always occupy one of the first places in the history of our national arts as one of the incontestable glories of our school. In matters off fame, justice is time, which renders just regard to each according to his rights and merits. Had Géricault been granted a longer life, and lived to see his painting hanging in the Louvre gallery among the chief works of the ancient masters, and the crowds of ordinary people, the bourgeois, and the artists who press forward to view the Shipwreck of the Medusa at every hour the doors of the museum are open to the public, he would have been well-revenged for the disdain of his contemporaries. This canvas alone suffices to place the name of Géricault among the most celebrated masters of the Empire. If one wants to compare him to some illustrious painter of the past, one could say of Géricault that he is the Michelangelo of our nation, as it was rightly said that Lesuer was the French Raphaël.
Louis Batissier. Extract from the Revue du dix-neuvième Siècle.
1841, Rouen, Imprimerie D. Brièrre, Rue Saint-Lo, N° 7