Eugène Delacroix, the leader of the Romantic Movement, was born on April 26, 1798. His use of color and light was unnerving to the French artists when he first began, but he went on to inspire the Impressionists.
Born to Victoire Œben, who came from a line of cabinetmakers on both sides of her family. Her father, Jean-Francois Œben, was the favorite cabinetmaker to Louis XV, XVI, and Marie Antoinette. Lawyer and politician Charles Delacroix moved the family from outside Paris to Bordeaux, where he served as Prefect until his early death in 1805.
Eugène, the fourth child of the family, was just five when he lost his father. Older sister Henriette was born in 1782, and brother Charles Henri was born in 1779. Another brother, Henri, was killed at 23 in Napoleon’s Battle of Friedland. After the early death of his father, young Eugène and his mother moved to Paris to live with his sister, who had married Raymond de Verninac, a Swedish diplomat who later sat for Jacques-Louis David.
In Paris, Eugène attended the Lycée Impérial, now named the Lycée Louis-le-Grand in the Latin Quarter. His cousin and artist Henri Riesener introduced him to Neo-classical artist Pierre Narcisse Guerin in 1815, under whom he began to study. Alongside artists Ary & Henry Scheffer, Léon Cogniet and Théodore Géricault. The next year, in March 1816, he enrolled in the École des Beaux-Arts, still studying under Guerin and also as a copyist in the Musée du Louvre.
Not the most patient of artists, when it came time to wait for the paint to dry before applying the varnish, he was often criticized by most of the serious artists of the time. In 1825, a visit to England opened up his creativity with the inspiration of the stage and the written word. Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Faust’s Goethe, and Lord Byron found their way into his art and even gave him opportunities to illustrate books and sheet music.
While he may have been trained by a Neo-Classical artist, he retained little of the style’s values and forged his own path, which Géricault, the first king of the Romantic period, also inspired.
When Delacroix saw Géricault’s masterpiece Raft of the Medusa and even posed for one of the figures, he ran through the streets, excited at what he had seen. It was 1918, and at just 20 years old, he had a long career ahead of him. Ingres, who was holding the reins of the Academy tightly, clashed with Delacroix, and these artists clashed with these nutty ideas that were starting to spread through Paris. However, Romanticism was seen long ago in the 16th century and was influenced by Rubens.
Like Géricault, Delacroix was painting horses in the 1920s, although his paintings of large wild cats are more well-known now. In 1824, his first painting to be submitted to the Salon was a scene of the April 1822 Massacre of Scio, of the Turks killing the inhabitants of Scio, and a major moment in the fight for Greek independence. Since he had not been there, he spent his time in the National Library researching Greek costumes to set the scene as accurately as possible.
His most recognized painting is La Liberté Guidant le Peuple, painted in 1830 for the Salon of 1831, and is now proudly on display in the Musée du Louvre. But let’s rewind and see what this painting is all about.
More than one revolution marked the timeline of France. Most know of the big one that resulted in the beheading of Marie Antoinette & Louis XVI, which began in 1789. Four decades later, the people would rise up again against the brother of Louis XVI. Charles X had taken the throne after the death of his brother Louis XVIII on September 16, 1824. Things would get worse for Charles in 1830 when, on March 18, he dissolved the Parliament, and as the press spoke up against him, he censored them on July 25.
On Monday, July 26, more than 50 newspapers were forced to stop the presses. The next morning, the owners gathered and vowed to fight back. As the police arrived at the newspapers’ offices to take their presses and newspapers, they found the workers waiting and screaming. By the afternoon, the editors, owners, journalists, and printers began to march into the center of Paris. The Place Vendome, Place de la Bastille, and the Place du Carrousel saw large crowds of outraged citizens whom the police were no match for.
On July 28 in front of the Hotel de Ville, the Garde Royal was quickly outnumbered. The angry crowd gathered every cobblestone and projectile to build barricades and also tossed them at the police force. At this moment, 32-year-old Eugene Delacroix was just down the way at his studio at 15 Quai Voltaire and was moved to capture this penultimate moment of the Trois Glorieuses Jours.
Delacroix’s good friend Théodore Gericault had just three years earlier painted the monument Raft of the Medusa. The current event painting won plenty of fans and skeptics. History paintings were deemed the pinnacle of all art styles in the lexicon of art, but they rarely were painted so close to the moment of the event. Delacroix said, “If I can’t fight for my country, I will paint for it,” and he did just that.
For three months, he sketched and painted from September 20 to mid-December 1830. An astonishingly quick period to create such a large piece, and brought the entire moment to life. Displayed in the Salon of 1831, under the title Scenes de Barricades, it was met with a wide mix of criticism. Many thought the allegorical woman was dirty, displaying her hairy armpit and filthy feet, while the nude man and his visible pubic hair were right at eye level.
The entire scene was one of the lower and upper classes and men of all ages united. This was exactly why the Three-day Revolution is marked as such a defining moment in French history, as told in art and remembered by the July Column in the Place de la Bastille. It was the mix of all classes that stood up against the monarchy. While the first Revolution began with the poor vs the monarchy, the July Revolution saw all classes in arms together.
At the Salon of 1831, the State purchased the painting for 3000 francs, but it was only briefly displayed in the Musée du Luxembourg. Adolphe Thiers was worried it would inspire another uprising and had it removed and returned to Delacroix in 1832. The painting hid away in the Val d’Oise with his aunt Felicité Riesener until 1848, when it returned to Luxembourg. It was hidden until the 1855 Universal Exhibition, when he also had to darken her cap. Special permission had to be obtained for the exhibition after the painting went back into storage. 1863 when it was finally returned to the public, it was too late for the master to see it hung; the father of the Romantic movement was gone. In 1874, it finally moved to the Salle Mollier of the Louvre, where you can still see it today.
One day, another artist, Frederic Bartholdi, visited the Louvre and saw our lovely Delacroix Liberty, which inspired his very own design. Today, Delacroix’s well-known painting has been copied onto clothes, reimagined in billboards, inspired other artists to adopt it as their own, and projected onto the side of a plane, and even my beloved Swatch watch. She is brought out every 14 juillet and any other moment of immense French pride, and I always smile when I see her.
In 1832, Delacroix was one of the very few artists invited to visit Morocco and Northern Africa, where he had a chance to see firsthand the Orient that would inspire his next period. Most artists recreated stories on canvas without ever setting foot on the continent, but Delacroix was even invited into a harem to sketch scenes that few men were able to see. He filed numerous journals and created over 80 paintings, including the Women of Algiers in the Apartment that hangs in the Louvre. Picasso went on to copy it numerous times.
Well known for his large murals in churches and government buildings, he believed artists should devote their time to large tableaux in public places, as that was the way to be remembered. His frescos would be added to the Assemblée Nationale, Palais du Luxembourg, and, of course, Eglise Saint Sulpice.
In 1850, architect Félix Duban, who was restoring the Galerie d’Apollon, asked Delacroix to paint the center of this grand room. At the time, the only way for an artist to hang in the Louvre was ten years after their death. Delacroix loved the Louvre and dreamed of seeing his paintings hung there; with the paintings of the Galerie d’Apollon, he would fulfill that wish. Friend and author Charles Baudelaire said, “Delacroix was passionately in love with passion, but coldly determined to express passion as clearly as possible” after seeing his finished painting on the ceiling in the Louvre.
In 1849, he was commissioned to paint the baptismal chapel of Saint Sulpice. Before he started, it was changed to the Chapel of the Angels and given free rein to paint anything he wanted as long as it included angels. The two frescos were painted with wax added so the colors would remain vibrant even a hundred years later. On the left of the chapel is Jacob Wrestling the Angel, and on the right is Heliodore Expelled from the Temple; each was painted directly on the wall and took over ten years to complete when commissioned. Saint Michel is painted on a canvas high above and added when the frescos were complete.
Delacroix was never married, but he did have a few relationships with married women over the years, many of whom were also artists, including Eugenie Daltin and Elisa Boulanger. He did have a loyal companion and friend, Jenny Le Guillon, whom he hired in 1835. She would remain with him until the end of his life, cooking, cleaning, and caring for the artist who was happiest in front of his easel.
While painting the frescoes of Saint Sulpice, he wrote to a friend that this project would kill him. Sadly, he died after a long illness on August 13, 1863. His funeral was held on 17 August at the St-Germain des Prés church, and he was buried at Père-Lachaise.
In his will, he asked to be buried in the heights of Père-Lachaise in a place somewhat removed, “there will be neither emblem, bust, or statue”. The subtle dark volcanic tomb in the shape of a sarcophagus, like that of Scipio the Roman general and bearing only his name, is understated, much like the man.
In the Jardin du Luxembourg, under the shade of the trees, pull up one of those green chairs to Jules Dalou’s Monument to Eugene Delacroix, dedicated by his supporters in 1890 and topped with a bust of the great artist, a short walk from his beautiful work in Saint Sulpice.