Leon Bazile Perrault- cats, cupids & cloying cuteness?

The Wood Gatherer

Léon-Jean-Bazile Perrault (1832-1908 ) was French artist who catered to affluent bourgeois taste by producing beautiful pictures to decorate their homes. Inspired by his teachers, François-Édouard Picot and William-Adolphe Bouguereau, who were both master painters in the Academic style of the nineteenth-century, Perrault perpetuated their emphasis upon mythology and idealisation. Like them, too, Perrault drew upon the eighteenth century artistic tradition of painters such as Jean-Antoine Watteau and François Boucher, who both painted idealised subjects as well.

The flower seller (1887)

Léon-Bazille Perrault was born to a poor family in Poitiers. At the age of fourteen he began drawing lessons as a way of earning extra income for the household; he displayed considerable talent and was soon helping to renovate local churches. Winning a drawing competition when he was 19 enabled Perrault to afford to travel to Paris to begin his formal artistic training, which began under Picot and was continued with studies under his friend Bouguereau at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. Like Munier before him, Perrault was deeply inspired by his teacher and the latter painter’s influence certainly shows in their shared style and subjects.

Narcissa

Perrault’s career began during the Second Empire of Napoleon III. This was a period marked by a middle class taste for works of art that were superficially beautiful rather than intellectually demanding or avantgarde. Painters such as Perrault, Bouguereau, Cabanel and Munier all supplied that market. Like his contemporaries, Perrault met this commercial demand with mythological figures, pictures of children, nudes and some genre scenes. What proved popular at exhibitions and sold best as either paintings or as engraved reproductions were pictures that offered an idealised version of contemporary life. Nonetheless, these paintings were also awarded prizes at exhibitions; Perrault received a number of awards and professional honours for his work.

The Lumberjack’s Daughter

Just like Bouguereau and Munier, a very important element in Perrault’s output were his pictures of children. A contemporary article in the magazine The Century described how:

“…it is not extravagant to add that no painter of children, from the time of Albano to the present day, has more perfectly rendered the inner structure and subtle modelling of surface, the peculiar quality and graceful action of a child, in perfect physical beauty and health; and all artists know that children are the most difficult of subjects.”

‘The Child in Art: Perrault’s Le Reveil d’Amour,’ The Century, vol. 46, 1893.
En penitence (In disgrace)

Whether Perrault’s young subjects were depicted playing a game, working in the countryside or were located within some mythological story and setting, they were all highly sentimental images which played upon the Romantic stereotype of childhood: its innocence and vulnerability, prettiness, endearing naughtiness and charming imitations of adult occupations. This can be seen particularly in Perrault’s numerous paintings of sleeping babies, angels, putti and cupids (pursuing a theme already profitably exploited by Bouguereau) or in his images of maternal or sisterly tenderness, which again feature sleeping babies or dependent toddlers and appealed to the same market. Also, like Munier, Perrault played upon his buyers’ parental emotions, as with En penitence (In disgrace) seen above; we as viewers are involved and appealed to by the image: the girl in her pure white shift seeks our comfort for some misdeed. There was, too, shameless sentimentality and schmaltz in the manner of Munier. Perrault painted a number of pictures of girls with cats and kittens, which surely meant to delight and charm in a very cynical way.

Girl with Kittens (1886)
Tenderness

Perrault’s images fitted into the ‘Romantic’ view of the child as pure and innocent, yet he added another layer to this. Just like Bouguereau and Munier, Perrault allowed a hint of adult awareness to creep into his images. Girl with Dove (seen below) is very much in the Greuze style in which the soft vulnerability of the bird is knowingly juxtaposed beside the exposed flesh. The dove is white and pure; her shed shift is white and pure and yet there is an undeniable subtext in the plump bird pressed to the chest. Boucher (mentioned earlier) also did the same in the eighteenth century as in his rather more blatant Venus with Two Doves. Audiences were expected to spot these resonances- which they must have done too in the painting The Education of a Sparrow (1894)- for which, see below. Doubtless, too, Perrault’s At the Fountain was an almost obligatory nod to Greuze’s Broken Pitcher, though sanitised and harmless. We might note as well how similar his girls look to those of his mentor and peer Bouguereau and how- again like his master- the girls are often found perched on convenient blocks of stone.

Girl with Dove
At the fountain
After the Swim

As with Bouguereau, Perrault’s countryside could be idealised- witness the classical fountain where the girl is filling her jug (above)- but, despite the risk of putting off buyers, he seemed readier to acknowledge the life of toil that poor rural children faced: The Wood Gatherer and The Lumberjack’s Daughter both have heavy burdens to carry. Away from Home (1879) shows a girl with a violin- a street musician- standing outside in the snow; Out in the Cold (1890) depicts a brother and sister shivering on a frosty step in the street (see too Les Jeunes Mendiants). Bouguereau painted very similar subjects, but made them sunny and hopeful. Perrault could be more honest- yet then again, The Apple Picker (1879) and The Snack (1880) make basic country fare look simple and wholesome- rather than indicative of poverty- which the girls’ lack of shoes implies.

Equally, despite the occasional hints that a living has to be earned, there is also plentiful time for picturesque and endearing play, by the sea or by pools, as we see in After the Swim (above), in which the little girl has gathered a bouquet and crosses her feet in an endearingly awkward manner. Like Bouguereau, Perrault often painted gypsy girls, and they are rendered as exotic and colourful creatures, wearing distinctive costumes and introducing an orientalist element into his work. Unlike Bouguereau, though, his subjects far less often engage with the viewer in a knowing two way exchange (although see Girl with Kittens). His master would have exploited far more the opportunities for suggestiveness presented by the hints of bared flesh in The Mirror of Nature, Crossing the Stream or The Wood Gatherer. Instead, for Perrault white dresses or blouses and flowers stress the Romantic notions of natural and pure innocence (Spring or A Crown of Flowers).

For more information on Victorian era art, see details of my book Cherry Ripe on my publications page.

The Mirror of Nature
Crossing the Stream
Spring
Education of a Sparrow

To summarise, Perrault was described in the 1893 article in The Century as “a polished French gentleman… suave and affable in his manner, tall and vigorous, a serious worker… his studio is richly and picturesquely furnished, after the usual luxurious manner of successful Parisian artists. It is, however, not a place of leisure, for Perrault is one of those modern painters who do their ten hours a day of hard work. He was the air of a well-to-do, practical man of the world.” He had learned the work ethic of his mentor Bouguereau and had realised that long days at the easel, giving the public what the public wanted, meant commercial success.

See too my book on nineteenth century painting on the books page.

Offerings to Aphrodite

Jules Scalbert, The Spring Dance

I’m interested here to consider exactly how Aphrodite/ Venus, the goddess of love, was worshipped in classical Greece and Rome- and how artists have represented these rites since.

Leon Bazile Perrault, Venus with a Dove

One highly appealing aspect of the cult of Aphrodite is the fact that it eschewed animal sacrifices- at least by Empedocles’ time, which was around the mid-fifth century BCE. The shedding of blood was entirely prohibited at Paphos. The one, notorious, exception to this was the Carthaginian practice of child sacrifice at the shrine of Tanit (a North African descendant of Ishtar). Fortunately, this unpleasant worship was isolated.

Henri-Pierre Picou, The Spring

Rather than presenting the goddess with the corpses of doves and other small animals, at the majority of her shrines it became the practice that incense, essential oils and opium were burnt for her, small images were presented, and fruit, flowers, honey and other food stuffs were offered- the “amorous herbs and flowers” prepared for the feast of Venus that are described in John Keats’ epic poem Lamia. In the ancient Homeric Hymn, for example, the goddess is called “the one with the beautiful garlands.” Aphrodite came to be particularly closely associated with perfumes and scents, from both incense and flowers. In a previous post I featured the paintings of British artist John Godward, who several times depicted women making offerings of blooms to the goddess.

Henri-Pierre Picou, The Loss of Innocence

Sweet foods and scents and beautifully coloured blossoms are extremely apt offerings to the goddess of love, but there is (of course) something even more suitable- and that is love itself. Several of Aphrodite’s temples (for example, Pyrgi, Cadiz, Corinth, Cythera and the Cypriot shrines) were staffed by large numbers of prostitutes to serve visiting devotees. Numerous small models of these ‘holy harlots’ survive in museums around the world.

from the Sulimaniyah Museum, Iraq

Pierre Louys dramatised the practice of sacred courtesan-ship in his novel Aphrodite, imagining a temple school that trained young girls in the many arts of love so that they could please male and female callers. Plainly, prostitutes were not at all seen as disreputable or undesirable members of the religious community: they often donated to temples and regularly participated in their ceremonies- as happened, for example, in Rome.

Sex was available for purchase at temples, but celebrants were encouraged to engage amongst themselves as a sign of their adoration for the goddess. Around the Cypriot shrine of Knidos (Cnidus) there were extensive gardens. The Greek satirist Lucian recorded that, hidden amongst the shrubs and trees, there were ‘pleasure benches’ and ‘pleasure booths’ for couples keen to demonstrate their devotion to Aphrodite. The Latin text, Pervigilium Veneris, ‘The Vigil of Love,’ is set at a temple of Venus on Sicily where similar love booths were provided. At a spring festival, virgins would be summoned by the goddess to be taken to bed for the first time:

“She, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds, whispers anear,
Disguising her voice in the Zephyr’s- ‘So secret the bed! And thou shy?’…
Now learn ye to love who loved never; now ye who have loved, love anew!”

These physical expressions of devotion are the most appropriate offerings Aphrodite can receive. Let’s not forget that the Greeks would represent her riding a goat, symbolic of her earthy, physical nature. She liked sex and she liked her followers to enjoy it as often as possible too. What’s more- as I’ve noted several times, the goddess welcome all forms of love as equally valid and equally sacramental.

Charles Gleyre

Rather like the cults of Dionysus, Pan and Bacchus, the Greeks did not consider it sacrilegious to encourage worshippers to indulge themselves. Pleasure and ecstasy were viewed wholly positively, something that may seem refreshing when compared to the more modern Western trait of equating morality, godliness and goodness with self-denial.

Symbolist Venus

The Renaissance of Venus (1877) Walter Crane Tate Gallery

The painters of the Symbolist movement were particularly keen upon classical mythological scenes and made good use of the many gods, goddesses and other beings. Aphrodite and her sisters appear quite frequently in pictures. The Birth of Venus is a common scene, sometimes presented in slavish imitation of Botticelli, as is the case with Walter Crane’s canvas of 1877, The Renaissance of Venus. Doves flutter past, myrtle (a plant sacred to Aphrodite) sprouts on the shore and the naked goddess tries to control her billowing hair, whilst looking down demurely to one side. Venus is an attractive young woman, but with quite a muscular frame. We might suppose that Crane wished to represent the intersex aspect of the goddess, but in fact the story goes that his wife objected to him working from naked female models, so he painted instead from an Italian called Alessandro di Marco, a young man popular with many London artists. Allegedly Lord Leighton spotted Alessandro’s physique adapted to become Aphrodite when the picture was first exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery. Far less inspired is the image of Venus’ Mirror included below, in which Crane’s goddess seems no more than a Victorian lady admiring herself- though admittedly she may be suffering something of a wardrobe malfunction.

Crane, The Mirror of Venus (or, Art and Life)

French painter Gustave Moreau created some comparably conventional pictures: in his Birth of Venus (Venus Appearing to Fishermen) a similar long-haired, slender and youthful blonde emerges from the waves to receive the fishermen’s obeisance, whilst The Birth of Venus/ Naissance de Venus is an even more slavish copy of Botticelli and others. More original is his Venus Rising from the Sea (1866), in which the goddess appears, arms outstretched to support her voluminous locks, whilst attendants offer her pearls and coral. Moreau’s vision of the goddess is always rather pallid and insipid, though, lacking Aphrodite’s energy and power.

Moreau

In contrast, Odilon Redon offers several sensually glowing visions of the same divine birth. The bright pink body of the goddess is revealed within a rosy heart of a shell, as if emerging from a womb (1866 and two from 1912). In a third canvas, dating from 1910, she sits at ease in a deep red shell, watching the breaking waves. In a fourth scene, also from 1912, she floats ashore in a giant nautilus shell. Redon’s images, with their flesh pink tones and the emphasis upon the oyster-like shell, are expressly sensual. One of the ancient symbols of the goddess was the scallop shell, a reference to her birth from the shell as we see in Botticelli and in Moreau’s Naissance, but it also signified the female genitalia and emphasised the goddess’ sexual nature. Indeed, in the play Rudens by Roman author Plautus, two girls who are devoted to the goddess are described as conchas, shells: this term seems to have a double meaning.

Redon, Birth of Venus, 1912
Redon, Birth of Venus, 1912

Swiss Arnold Böcklin is known for his classical scenes, in which he regularly portrayed mythical beings such as sirens, nymphs, centaurs and fauns. He also tackled Venus’ birth several times. His Venus Anadyomene (born of the waves), painted in 1872, is carried across the sea by a monstrous dolphin (another animal closely linked to the goddess in her marine aspects), whilst little cupids with butterfly wings flutter above her head, holding gauzy draperies around her. A Birth of Venus from 1869 rehearses the same scene, but with only a couple of cupids and the goddess’ robes merging into what resembles a waterspout arising from the waves. Another such picture, also called the Green Venus, portrays the goddess walking on water.

Böcklin, Venus Anadyomene

Nearly all of Böcklin’s goddesses seem to be the same staid-looking Germanic matron, who is largely devoid of sexual frisson. This is especially the case with his triptych Venus Genitrix (the mother of the (Roman) people ) of 1895. This version of the goddess attracted official worship under the Caesars in Rome in order to promote maternal qualities and, in addition, to underline Julian family claims to descent from her. Böcklin’s Venus is a respectable wife- who plays a triangle (?)- and is seen with her husband and her children (although the bare bottomed Eros/ Cupid is- admittedly- somewhat at odds with this overall tone. I assume he’s there to bring the two young lovers together). If so, Böcklin’s Venus Dispatching Love of 1901 depicts a slightly earlier episode from this love story. In this image, a rather more voluptuous and wanton Venus is seen reclining beneath a myrtle, sending her son to bring trouble in mortals’ lives.

Venus Dispatching Love, 1901

Sexuality was never far from the work of Aubrey Beardsley (1872-98). His Venus Between Two Terminal Gods (1895) depicts the goddess wearing a long, off-the-shoulder dress, with dark, tousled hair. She faces the viewer impassively, sternly even, as a dove glides in front of her. The statues on either side hold pan-pipes and carry baskets overflowing with fruit on their heads. This is a respectable, slightly intimidating deity, whereas in Eros and Aphrodite, she is blatantly the harlot queen of physical love. We see her from behind, wearing only knee length stockings and reaching between her legs. Eros powders between her buttocks and thighs with a large soft brush, at the same time sporting a large erection; it appears as though they are both getting rather excited by the titivations. The indications of incest- and of a prostitute preparing herself for a client- are typical of Beardsley’s taste. Nonetheless, they are very much in the tradition of Bronzino and the mythology as well.

Symbolist style was adopted by society portraitist John Singer Sargent when he was asked to provide murals for Boston public library. His cycle, titled The Triumph of Religion, covers Egyptian and Assyrian religion as well Bible scenes portraying Judaism and Christianity. The work on the cylce, which is still to be found on the hallway of the third floor of the McKim Building, occupied Sargent between 1890 and 1919.

Astarte, John Singer Sargent

Amongst the pagan gods the artist portrayed is a striking Astarte, painted in 1895, who wears a blue robe and stands upon a crescent moon. She is encrusted with beads and gold ornamentation highly reminiscent of Gustav Klimt. Naked attendants surround her, their hands raised in worship. Her eyes are closed and her lips bear a beatific smile. She is serene and powerful, sparkling with light, and is arguably a great deal more attractive a figure than the rather worthy ‘Mysteries of the Rosary,’ ‘Dogma of Redemption,’ ‘Israelites Oppressed’ or ‘Prophets.’