Madame
X
John Singer
Sargent -- American
painter
1884
Metropolitan
Museum, New
York
Oil
on canvas
208.6
x 109.9 cm (82 1/8 x 43 1/4 in.)
Jpg: Lee
Sandstead
/ Art
Renewal Center
When Madame X
was shown at
the Salon of 1884 it became instantly a salacious painting and a
scandal
in French society as a result of its sexual suggestiveness of her pose
and the pail pasty color of her skin. The "X" of Madame X was
actually Madame
Gautreau (1859-1915) who’s reputation was apparently
destroyed
and John left France shortly to never truly regain his former standing
as the darling of Paris.
The size of the
painting is enormous,
measuring 82 inches by 43 inches or nearly seven feet tall (2
meters)
-- and with the underlying sensuality of the painting, in the time that
it was done (if it isn't still to some degree today), almost
threatening
to the viewer.
When I first read
about this painting,
I was struck by the notion that if the painting was so damning to her
reputation,
why hadn't Madame Gautreau nor her husband ever destroyed it; which
seemed
to tell me that she must have secretly loved it; but this was not the
case.
The uproar over the painting, especially from her family made her hate
it.
So what gives?
On the 15th of
November '98
I went to the library and ordered a number of books. The following is
from John
Sargent, by Hon Evan Charteris, first published by Benjamin Blom,
Inc.
NY, in 1927, two years after the death of Sargent:
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(Hon
Evan Charteris)
“In 1883 Sargent
had begun a portrait which was to have a good deal of influence on his
career. As far back as 1881 he met Madame Gautreau in Paris society,
where
she moved rather conspicuously, shining as a star of considerable
beauty,
and drawing attention as to one dressed in advance of her epoch. It was
the period in which in London the professional beauty, with all the
specialization
which the term connoted, was recognized as having a definite role in
social
hierarchy. Madame Gautreau occupied a corresponding position in Paris.
Immediately after meeting her, Sargent wrote to his friend del Castillo
to find out if he could do anything to induce Madame Gautreau to sit
[for]
him. 'I have.' he wrote, 'a great desire to paint her portrait and have
reason to think she would allow it and is waiting for someone to
propose
this homage to her beauty. If you are 'bien avec elle' [13]
and will see her in Paris you might tell her that I am a man of
prodigious
talent.'
 Vernon
Lee
1881
(Friend
of JSS) |
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"The necessary
preliminaries were arranged, and the disillusionment seems to have
begun
quickly, for after the first few sittings he wrote to Vernon Lee from
Nice
on February 10 (1883): 'In a few days I shall be back in Paris,
tackling
my other 'envoi,' the Portrait of a Great Beauty. Do you object to
people
who are 'fardeés'[15]
to the extent of being uniform lavender or blotting-paper colour all
over?
If so you would not care for my sitter; but she has the most beautiful
lines, and if the lavender or chlorate of potash-lozenge colour be
pretty
in itself I should be more than pleased.'
"In another
letter, and again to Vernon Lee, he wrote: 'Your letter has just
reached
me still in this country house (Les Chêes Parramé)
struggling
with the unpaintable beauty and hopeless laziness of Madame
Gaureau.'
"Even when
the picture was nearing completion he was assailed by misgivings. 'My
portrait!'
he wrote to Castillo, 'it is much changed and far more advanced than
when
you last saw it. One day I was dissatisfied with it and dashed a tone
of
light rose over the former gloomy background. I turned the picture
upside
down, retired to the other end of the studio and looked at it under my
arm. Vast improvement. The élancée figure of the model
shows
to much greater advantage. The picture is framed and on a great easel,
and Carolus
has been to see it and said: 'Vous pouvez l'envoyer au Salon avec
confiance.'[14]
Encouraging, but false. I have made up my mind to be refused.'
"The picture was accepted
for the Salon of 1884. Varnishing day did nothing to assure the
painter.
On the opening day he was in a state of extreme nervousness. It was the
seventh successive year in which he had exhibited. Every Salon had seen
the critics more favorable, the public more ready to applaud. But
without
suggesting that the critics and the public of Paris are fickle, it is
probably
fair to say that popularity, fame and reputation are more subject to
violent
fluctuations there than other European capitals. This, at any rate, was
to be Sargent's experience.
"The doors
of the Salon were hardly open before the picture was damned. The public
took upon themselves to inveigh against the flagrant
insufficiency,
judged by prevailing standards, of the sitters clothing; the critics
fell
foul of the execution. The Parisian public is always vocal and
expressive.
The
Salon was
in an uproar. Here was an occasion such as they had not had since Le
D'jeuner sur l'Herbe, L'Olympia
and the Exhibition
of Independents. The onslaught was led the lady's relatives. A
demand
was made that the picture should be withdrawn. It is not among the
least
of the curiosities of human nature, that while an individual will
confess
and even call attention to his own failings, he will deeply resent the
same office being undertaken by someone else. So it was with the dress
of Madame Gautreau. Here the distinguished artist was proclaimed to the
public in paint a fact about herself which she had hitherto never made
any attempt to conceal, one which had, indeed, formed one of her many
social
assets. Her sentiment was profound. If the picture could not be
withdrawn,
the family might at least bide its time, wait till the Salon was
closed,
the picture delivered, and then by destroying, blot it as an unclean
thing
from the records of the family. Anticipating this, Sargent, before the
exhibition was over, took it away himself. After remaining many years
in
his studio it now figures as one of the glories of the Metropolitan
Museum
in New York." (pages 59-61)
"The scene
at the Salon is described in a letter written by Sargent's friend and
fellow-painter,
Ralph Curtis, to his parents. It will be noted that at a certain point
Sargent's forbearance gave way and his pugnacity . . . burst
out:
(See Letter
from Ralph
Curtis to his family)
"Sargent,
who was twenty-eight, had
been working for ten years in Paris. The Salon of 1884 was to have been
a culmination of his efforts. He had painted what is now recognized as
a masterpiece, displaying excellence which he was perhaps never to
surpass.
It had been received with a storm of abuse. Paris, which had been
smooth
and well-disposed and encouraging, had turned, and like a child
splintering
a plaything, had dealt a violent blow at its recognized favorite. He
was
not in the least in doubt of his own art, but he was always sensitive
to
atmosphere, always easily affected by unsympathetic environment. Paris
had awaken suddenly one May morning in an uncongenial mood, its
friendliness
hidden in clouds; the accord which prevailed between painter and public
was at an end." (Pages 63-64)
"Vernon
Lee summed it up this way:
“ . . . it seemed as if for years, he was engrossed in perpetually
dissatisfied
(and, as regards to Parisian public, disastrous) attempts to render
adequately
the ‘strange, weird, fantastic, curious’ beauty of that peacock-woman,
Mme. Gautreau.” (Page 250)
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By 1906 Madame
Gautreau had changed
her opinion of the painting. In a letter to Major Roller John
writes:
I think I know
what Mme Gautreau
wants . . . the Kaiser who was such a dear, thought her
portrait
the most fascinating woman's likeness that he has ever seen, and that
he
wishes me to have an exhibition in Berlin . . . (see
letter)
The 1890's saw la
Belle Époque
in full swing and accepted fashion, both in painting and in suggestive
nature of Mme's gown and pose had caught up. In '91 Mme Gauthereau was
again painted -- this time by Gustave Courtoi in an obvious attempt at
recreating the essential elements of John's painting. As you can see,
though
the pose and dress is just as daring, it never reaches the same
power.
Times had certainly
changed. The
thought that such a painting would even be considered a scandal had
faded
to black and in its place these paintings were deemed flattering to the
subject; but John had moved on and had turned his attention towards
America
for his work. In 1916, as the painting was being exhibited at the
Worlds
Fair in San Francisco, he wrote his friend Edward Robinson who was by
then
the director of the Metropolitan Museum in New York.
. . . now that
[the
painting] is in America I rather feel inclined to let it stay there if
a Museum should want it. I suppose it is the best thing I have done. I
would let the Metropolitan Museum have it for £ 1,000 pounds . .
. let me know your opinion . . . (see
letter)
I think we all know
what his opinion
was.
John worked
intensely harder on this
painting than any other submitted to the Salon to that date. He did a
number
of studies
and drawings in pencil, watercolors as well as oils. Even after the
show, John began an unfinished
copy of Madame X that now hangs at the Tate Gallery.
In order to fully
understand the
jeers from the public, it's important to note that the painting, as we
have it today, is altered from the original version! To add to the
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Photo
of Madame X as if hung at the Salon |
salacious nature, the
paining
had been shown at the Salon with the right dress strap off her
shoulder!
A Photograph
of the painting, as it was displayed, shows exactly how it looked.
Numerous
preliminary sketches
also depicted her with the strap off -- it was clearly part of her
personality.
Sargent made the adjustment after taking it back to his studio.
John Singer Sargent
loved Beauty.
"Indeed, [Vernon Lee would later say] I feel certain that his conscious
endeavor, his self-formulated program, was to paint whatever he saw
with
absolute and researchful fidelity, never avoiding ugliness nor seeking
after beauty. But, like most, though perhaps not all, supreme artists.
John Sargent was not aware of what he was really about, nor in what
manner
his superficial verbal program was for ever disregarded by the
unspoken,
imperious synthesis of his particular temperament and gifts. Also like
other painters of those . . . days, John Sargent did not know that
seeing
is a business of the mind, the memory and the heart, quite as much as
of
the eyes; and the valeurs which the most stiff-necked
impressionist
could strive after were the values of association and preference. Now
to
his constitution, ugliness and vulgarity were negative values,
instinctively
avoided. In theory, John Sargent would doubtless have defended Manet
for cutting
some of his figures in half, and even decapitating them by the
frame,
let alone choosing to portray bounders and sots in ballet stalls and
bars.
I can almost hear him [arguing] for Renoir's crowd of cads and
shop-girls
under umbrellas and for Degas's magnificent
lady
in her bathroom, under the ministrations of a corn-cutter."
But what set him
apart from others,
according to Vernon Lee, was "Sargent's outspoken love of the exotic
[and
the] unavowed love of rare kinds of beauty, for incredible types of
elegance
like his Mme. Gautreau" (from pages
250-252)
To me (Natasha),
John Singer Sargent
is a powerful and wonderful painter. He is a man who simply loved women
in virtually each one of his portraits. His feelings radiates from
them.
But his complementary eye did not seem to have been just to women. The
other portrait at the Nelson (Francisco Bernareggi) was years later of
a friend of his. It is done in a style that the Gallery called “Free
Form”
and looks very impressionistic, maybe like Renoir. The portrait is a
close-up
of a man in his 20's. I can’t describe it other than to say the man in
the picture is simply gorgeous. He has thick flowing dark hair, flowing
not too unlike what we’ve all seen in the drawing of Edgar Allen Poe
(although
fuller) with a dark full but youthful mustache. I don’t know if Madame
Gautreau ever fully realized just how lucky she was but certainly . . .
certainly, if it were not for the consternation of her contemporary
public
and her family, she must have been exceptionally pleased that her
boldness
was captured so perfectly by John Singer Sargent.
Now over a hundred
years later, I
chuckle to myself as I recall standing before his other work of Mrs.
Wade,
and remembering the grand size and powerfulness of it all,
commanding
the viewers attention, the Painting of Madame Gautreau (Madame X) which
hung in the Salon of 1884 must have just blown those
people
away!!!!!!!!!!!!
By: Natasha
Wallace
Copyright 1998-2003
Just out
"Strapless: The
Rise of John
Singer Sargent and the Fall of Madame X" by Deborah Davis
Footnotes:
Exhibitions
John
Singer
Sargent,
An Exhibition -- Whitney
Museum, NY & The Art Institute of Chicago 1986-1987
Madame Gautreau,
Virginie Avegno
(1859-1915)
Philip Resheph
has been doing
some research of his own on Madame Gautreau (Madame X) who's maiden
name
was Virginie Avegno, and this is what he found:
Dear Natasha,
It seems
that Virginie's father,
Major Anatole Avegno, died of a leg wound that he received at the
battle
of Shiloh in 1862 [Civil War, United States], and as a result, his
brother
took the family to Paris.
Her father
seems to have led
the most extraordinary regiment called the Avegno Zouaves, which
included
some Chinese soldiers and rather unwisely wore dark blue coats, as a
result
of which they were fired on by their own side!
Shiloh
seems to have been a
bit of a massacre all round.
Thank you Philip. One
of the
books I read, also confirmed this story in general terms. It said that
it was Virginie and her mother. For those that don't know New Orleans
--
a lot of French settled in New Orleans well before it was part of the
United
States and was/is a important port of trade located right at the
mouth of the Mississippi (Virginie's birthplace). So it was probably
natural
that her family would flee to France.
Also, I read a
quote from one of
the Paris local papers (in one of the books I read) that connected John
Sargent and Madame Gautreau before he painted her. The quote was
from a Frenchman Perdican about the "American invasion" of 1881 after a
recent horse race inwhich an American horse won. It said: "Their
painters, like Mr. Sargent, take away our medals, Their pretty women,
like
Madame Gauthereau outshine our own- and their horses thrash our steeds,
as Foxhall ridden by Fordham did on Sunday"
("Sargent:
The Early Portraits" by R. Ormand, p. 113).
Madame
Gautreau's Birthplace
A travel log claims
that Virginie
was born on the Parlange Plantation near New Road, Lousiana, which is
on
the Mississippi river, 90 miles north of New Orleans. Her great
grandfather
Marquis Vincent de Ternant was the plantation's first owner. The
plantation
grew cotton and had slaves. The place is open for viewing.
Parlange
Plantation
Comparison of
outrage to Manet
and Sargent
Early on, a Friends
of the Gallery, Philip Resheph, and I discussed this painting and
the
way Hon. Evan Charteris' use of comparing the outrage of the public to
the two paintings by Manet, notably Le
D'jeuner sur l'Herbe, and L'Olympia,
Philip was quick to point out that these were not similar events. First
of all, in Manet's work, both paintings are of hired models, Sargent's
is of a prominent society woman and she was not paid. Secondly, and
very
importantly, Manet's subjects were nude whereas Sargent's was not.
Though
I'm sure you caught this last distinction yourself, it is an important
one and I think Philip raises some good points and it is worth noting
here.
What I think
Charteris was trying to say was not that the outrage was the same exactly,
but that Sargent had to face similar resistance to the nature of what
beauty
is in art and what is acceptable. Like Manet, Sargent pushed at the
boundaries
but more within the establishment. John dared to show the boldness of Madame
Gautreau's beauty and manner. This was a real
woman a here-and-now person not a goddess or a romanticized
character.
Sargent
had
made a critical miscalculation. Although he had previously taken
Whistler’s
controversial painting Girl in White and had turned it into a
resounding
success with Fumée d'Ambre Gris (see two
studies in white) he had failed to understand that like
Ingres' Odalisque
with a Slave, the subject was an other-worldly place (see Olympia
in juxtaposition) Madame X would not be.
Sure, Sargent
had toned it down, she was clothed and not naked; but the line of
acceptability
for portraiture is much more constraining than for subject paintings.
And
although he painted the truth, and although Gautreau
may have powdered her skin and looked pasty, the attempt to show the
core
of Olympia -- the flirt and tease of Gautreau
who after all is real person not just a model, was too much. It was
this
immediacy of the subject -- a contemporary and known person to the
people
viewing her along with her sexuality -- larger than life (seven feet
tall
and remember the painting, as it is now with the dress
strap repainted, is a tamer version of the original) draws your
attention
-- no -- demands your attention! In the context of the hushed and
whispered
gossip of her reputation from the other women and the "in your face I'm
beautiful" to the men standing looking at her -- this was more than
society
could bare; and just like Manet, they revolted against it.
Manet cutting his
figures in
half
One of the best
examples of Manet
doing this is Café-Concert
(a Natasha essay with picture)
Degas's magnificent
lady in her
bathroom
Philip Resheph thinks
that possibly
Deagas's Woman Bathing (1885), or The Tub (1886) might be
the
painting Vernon Lee is referring to.
Thanks Philip
: )
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