You may never have heard the name Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1827-1875), but those who have walked around Paris or visited the Musée d'Orsay have probably come across one of his works of art: the wonderful Fountain of the Four Corners of the World (Fontaine de l'Observatoire) located in the Marco Polo Garden south of the Luxembourg Gardens, the sculpted gable above the southern facade of the Louvre facing the Seine River, and especially the interesting sculpture of the Dance (La Danse) – a group of naked figures bursting into ecstasy in a wild, turbulent dance, in the right corner of the facade of a building. The Opera Garnier in Paris.
Carpeaux is invited to create sculptures for the Paris Opera House
In 1861, the young architect and winner of the Prix de Rome, Charles Garnier, was chosen to build the new Paris Opera House. The decision was made following the bombing of the old Opera House on Rue Peltier, which was attended by Emperor Napoleon III and his wife Eugenie.
The magnificent new opera building, built at the northern end of the Opera Boulevard, features the same eclectic style that was common in the Second Empire, architecture that combined motifs from the Italian Renaissance and Baroque.
In 1863, Garnier commissioned Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, then 36 years old, who was best known for his work The Young Fisherman and the Oyster, a work influenced by the Romantic sculptor François Rode (the same one who adorned the upper part of the Arc de Triomphe in La Marseillaise – depicting the departure of the volunteers in 1792 to defend the fatherland). Carpeaux, the son of a builder and a lace weaver, was accepted to the renowned Ecole des Beaux-Arts where he won the prestigious Prix de Rome in 1854.
Carpo's career
Like many others, Carpo also traveled to Rome in 1856, where he was inspired by classical masterpieces, and was particularly influenced by the works of Michelangelo. In 1861, Carpo completed in Rome his work “Ugolin and His Sons,” a gruesome scene from the Inferno in Dante’s Divine Comedy in which Ugolin feeds on the flesh of his dead children. Upon his return to France, he sculpted the work in bronze for the French Ministry of Art, and in marble for the International Exhibition held in Paris in 1867.
During those years, Carpeaux had already begun to establish his position in artistic and social circles, and was appointed art teacher to Napoleon Eugene Louis – the only son of Emperor Napoleon III. Carpeaux suggested to the Emperor and his wife Eugenie that he create a portrait of the heir apparent, and sculpted in marble the young eight-year-old prince with his beloved dog Nero, whom he had received as a gift from the Russian ambassador.
The portrait of the young crown prince, aroused enthusiastic reactions, and began to be mass-produced in various sizes and materials: bronze, plaster, clay and even on biscuits. Amazingly, even after the fall of the empire and after the prince's tragic death at the hands of the Zulus in Africa in 1879, the famous porcelain factory in Sèvres continued to sell the portrait under the non-binding name: "Boy and Dog."
The scandal
Let us return, then, to 1863, when Charles Garnier commissioned four groups of sculptures led by renowned artists to decorate the facade of the new building. Garnier assigned Carpeaux’s group to present the dance motif, while the other three groups were to focus on drama, instrumental music, and harmony. Garnier, who consulted with his fellow sculptors, did not spare Carpeaux advice and provided him with sketches of the required work, including precise specifications and dimensions. After discussions, the two agreed on a composition that would describe: “a kind of airy dance around a source of inspiration.”
However, after three years, and following hundreds of sketches and models, Carpeaux deviated slightly from the original plan and increased the number of figures from three to nine, which did not quite match the aesthetic appearance of the building's facade. Garnier, who initially objected, eventually decided to align himself with Carpeaux, noting:
I found his model to be excellent, I was deeply impressed by the refreshing composition and the vibrant appearance of his clay figures, and I said to myself: If the artist's enthusiasm is even slightly noticeable in the work, it is a small defect, but it would be a great defect if I insisted on my way and thereby deprived France of a work of sculpture that would almost certainly be a masterpiece.
In the work, Carpo freely merged sources from the past with contemporary figures: at the center stood the androgynous figure of the dancing spirit, which was a combination of Raphael's Saint Michael, with a few lines from the figure of a famous German adventurer of those years named Helene de Rakovitza, while the spirit's torso was actually taken from one of the carpenters who served as a model.
To create the six raving Bacchantes that encompass the spirit of dance, Carpo studied circus acrobats and used a famous dancer from the Fete Royale as a model. Carpo also drew inspiration from ancient reliefs and vases, but mainly from the dancers in the old opera house in Peletier, whom he drew continuously with rapid pencil strokes that emphasized movement.
Needless to say, the grandiose project went significantly over budget due to the carving work that required the participation of many workers. And Carpeaux himself, forced to draw from his own pocket and the money of Amelie de Montfort (who would later become his wife), did not hesitate to take on the sculpture with his own hands.
In late July, as the sculptures were unveiled one after the other on the facade of the building, visitors noticed the contrast between Carpo's bold work and the mediocrity of the other three sculptures. The numerous reviews and caricatures in the press condemned the abomination, and the public itself was shocked by the power of the realism of the dance, which was called pornographic.
The unrestrained pagan dance of the Bacchantes (maenads), and the figure of the Faun (satyr) characterized the revelry of the god of wine Bacchus (Dionysus in Greek). And the worship was saturated with passions to the point of loss of senses. Which was not in line with the strict and disciplined modern dance. One journalist described it well: “The women, enthused by the spirit of the dance, lead a frenzied circle, exhausted and intoxicated by their fatigue, they abandon themselves to the movement when they have no power to stop it or continue it..”
The venomous criticism continued until the incident with the ink bottle. On the night of August 26-27, 1869, an unknown person threw an ink bottle at the work. The shattered bottle stained the waist of the reveler on the left and the figures next to her. Before long, and surprisingly, a stream of letters and supportive comments reached Carpeaux and his team, and the opera management received countless suggestions and ideas for removing the stain.
Eventually, the safe chemical formula was found to remove the stain, and by September 1st, the statue was clean and shiny. However, the scale of the protests took its toll, as the government institutions and Garnier themselves were forced to agree to remove the “dance,” much to Carpo’s dismay.
Garnier tried to persuade Carpeaux to create a suitable replacement, but he refused, and Garnier was forced to appoint a new sculptor named Charles Gomery. Fate had its own plans, and in 1870 war broke out, the opera building was converted into a supply depot, Gomery, who had already managed to produce drawings, fell ill and died during the siege of Paris, and the move was abandoned for the next two years.
The fall of the Second Empire and Carpo's death in 1875 gave the "Dance" a sacred touch, and finally prevented the work from being removed. In 1964, a replica was created by the sculptor Paul Belmondo, and the original stone statue was respectfully transferred to the museum. The Louvre And later to the main hall of the Musée d'Orsay in 1986, where it can be viewed today, along with other works by the great sculptor, Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux.
Thank you Amiram, wonderful post.