Usurping Masculinity: The Gender Dynamics of the coiffure à la Titus in Revolutionary France Jessica Larson Advised by Professor Susan Siegfried A thesis submitted to fulfill the requirement for the degree of BACHELOR OF ARTS WITH HONORS THE DEPARTMENT OF THE HISTORY OF ART UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN April 20, 2013 1 Dedicated to my father, Mark Sayer Larson. 2 Acknowledgements I would first like to thank Professor Susan Siegfried, who was courteous enough to agree to the undoubtedly frustrating position of being my thesis advisor. The subject of the coiffure à la Titus was Professor Siegfried’s suggestion and research on my topic would have been impossible without her endless supply of references and notes, which she graciously shared with me at every opportunity. Her thorough line-edits and annotations must have been time consuming and I am deeply grateful for her work. Professor Siegfried’s enthusiasm for the art and fashion of Revolutionary France was truly inspiring. Secondly, I want to acknowledge Professor Howard Lay’s devotion to the honors thesis program. He held all of the thesis students’ hands every step of the way. Professor Lay was always willing to discuss any thesis problems, even at 11 pm the night before our Symposium. His patience with the continual war I waged against the English language throughout the writing of this thesis was a thankless job. I am eternally appreciative of all my friends and family who have supported this project. I know that haircuts from the eighteenth-century are not of supreme interest to everyone, but thank you to those who listened intently—or humored me—when I just had to talk through an idea. I adored writing about this topic and I only hope that my love of the coiffure à la Titus was, at least a little, infectious. 3 TABLE OF CONTENTS List of Figures………………………………………………………. 5 Introduction………………………………………………………… 8 Chapter I……………………………………………………………. 11 Chapter II…………………………………………………………… 22 Chapter III………………………………………………………….. 32 Chapter IV………………………………………………………….. 42 Conclusion………………………………………………………….. 60 Bibliography……………………………………………………….... 62 4 List of Figures Figures: Figure 1: Ambroise Tardieu, Théroigne de Méricourt, from Des maladies mentales. Print. 1838. National Library of Medicine. Figure 2: “Cheveux à la Titus. Tunique à la Mameluck.” Costume Parisien, 393, An 10. Print. 1803. Figure 3: Fashion Plate from the Journal des Dames et des Modes, 14 Ventôse An VI . Print. March 4, 1798. Figure 4: James Gillray, “The Progress of the Toilet…Dress Competed.” Hand colored etching. February 25, 1810. From the British Museum. Figure 5: “Chevelure à la Titus, Parsemée de Fleurs. Collier d’Ambre. Garniture de Robe Drapée.” Costume Parisien. Print. 1808. Figure 6: Sandro Boticelli, Primavera (detail). Tempera on Panel. c. 1482. Uffizi Gallery. Figure 7: “Giraffe Hairdos by Croisart, January No. 710,” Petit Courrier des Dames. Print. 1830. Figure 8: Louis-Léopold Boilly, Antoine-Vincent Arnault. Oil on canvas. c. 1805. Musée du Louvre. Figure 9: Louis-Léopold Boilly, Madame Arnault de Gorse. Oil on canvas. c. 1805. Musée du Louvre. Figure 10: Pierre-Narcisse Guérin, Jeune Fille en Buste. Oil on Canvas. 1794. Musée Louvre. Figure 11: François Gérard, Portrait of Madame Tallien (detail of her Titus). Oil on Canvas. 1805. Musée Carnavalet. 5 Figure 12: Coiffure à l’Indépendance or the Triumph of Liberty. Print . c. 1778. Rèunion des Musées Nationaux/Art Resource, NY. Figure 13: “Le Perruquier patriote.” Print. 1789. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Figure 14: Philibert-Louis Debucourt, Louis Leopold Boilly, Madame St. Aubin. Aquatint on Paper. 1803. Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute Figure 15: Georges-Jacques Gatine. “Les Titus et les Cache-folie, le Bon Genre No. 39,” La Mésangère. Print. 1810. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Figure 16: Capitoline Brutus. Bronze. c. 300 BC. Capitoline Museums. Figure 17: Jacques-Louis David, The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of his Sons. Oil on canvas. 1789. Musée du Louvre. Figure 18: Jacques-Louis David, Oath of the Horatii. Oil on canvas. 1784. Musée du Louvre. Figure 19: Jacques-Louis David, Intervention of the Sabine Women. Oil on canvas. 1799. Musée du Louvre. Figure 20: Carle Vernet, Les Incroyables (detail). Print. 1797. Figure 21: “Croisures à la victime” from le Journal des Dames et des Modes. Print. 1798. Bibliothèque Nationale. Figure 22: Guillotine Earrings. Metal and Gold. Uncertain date, but most likely from the Directoire Period. Musée Carnavalet. Figure 23: George Cruikshank, “A Republican Belle.” Print. March 10, 1794. The British Museum. Figure 24: Published by la Fabrique de Pellerin in Epinal, Le Monde Renversé (IVe planche). Wood block Print in Color. 1829. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 6 Figure 25: Louis-August Brun, Marie-Antoinette on Horseback. Oil on canvas. 1781- 1782. Réunion des Musées Nationaux/Art Resource, NY. Figure 26: “Troc pour Troc, Coeffure pour Couronne, Paris pour Montmédy, Départ pour l'Autriche.” Print. 1791. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Figure 27: Bond. W. Madame Tallien. Print.1803. Musée Carnavalet. Probably done from an earlier painting. Figure 28: Jean-Louis Laneuville, The Citoyenne Tallien in a Prison Cell at La Force, Holding Her Hair Which Has Just Been Cut. Oil on canvas. 1796. Figure 29: Jean-Louis Laneuville, Portrait of Bertrand Barère de Vieuzac. Oil on canvas. 1793-1794. Neue Pinakothek, Munich. Figure 30: James Gillray, The Occupations of Madame Tallien and Empress Josephine. Print. c. 1805. The British Museum. Figure 31: Anne Flore Millet, Marie-Antoinette of Austria, Queen of France. Engraving. 1795. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Figure 32: Jean-Baptiste-François Desoria, Portrait de la Citoyenne Pipelet. Oil on canvas. 1797. Art Institute of Chicago. Figure 33: Anne-Louis Girodet, Sleep of Endymion. Oil on canvas. 1791. Musée du Louvre. Figure 34: Anne-Louis Girodet, Self-portrait with Julie Candeille (the “Double Portrait). Lithograph by E. Louis Tanty after a lost drawing. 1807. Musée de Girodet. Figure 35: Anne-Louis Girodet, Constance de Salm. Print. 1814. Figure 36: Louis-Léopold Boilly, Madame Fouler, Comtesse de Relingue. Oil on Canvas. 1810. Fondation Napoléon. Figure 37: James Gillray, “La Belle Espagnole—or—la Doublure de Madame Tallien.” Print. 1796. The British Museum. 7 Introduction In 1838 the medical treatise Des maladies mentales (Figure 1) published an engraving of the former Revolutionary figure Théroigne de Méricourt. The print, engraved by Ambrose Tardieu after an 1816 sketch, depicted de Mericourt from side-profile while institutionalized at the Salpêtrière psychiatric hospital in Paris.1 The print showed a deranged de Méricourt, who’s once praised beauty had vanished and left her gaunt and sexless. The print’s most glaring signifier of her insanity is, without a doubt, de Méricourt’s absence of hair. The long and billowing tresses that had always been present in Revolutionary portraiture of de Méricourt had been bluntly cropped, which was a common practice in asylums for women regarded as too maniacal to manage their hair.2 The text that accompanied the print described de Méricourt’s descent into madness, which less then subtly insinuated that her “deplorable role” in the French Revolution was to blame.3 What the engraving, in accompaniment with Des maladies mentales, meant to elucidate is unmistakable: insanity is the result when women are given a political voice and this image, wherein the subject is shorn of her hair, is the physical manifestation of this lunacy. Now, backtrack forty years; the women in the streets of Paris have cropped their hair radically short. This style, called la coiffure à la Titus, was one of the most worn hairstyles of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic eras (Figure 2). Unlike de Méricourt’s short hair, however, the women who wore the Titus had purposefully assumed the fashion. The coiffure à la Titus had initially found popularity with Republican men in the early 1790s who wished to imitate the style of Roman Emperor busts, but midway through the decade the haircut was seized by women. 1 Jane Kromm, Art of Frenzy: Public Madness in the Visual Culture of Europe, 1500-1850, (New York: Continuum International Publishing Group, 2002), 213-214. 2 Kromm 214. 3 Etienne Esquirol, Des maladies mentales considérées sous les rapports médical, hygiénique et médico-légal, Volume 1, (Bruxelles: Meline, Cans, et Cie, 1838), 445-448. 8 What had been intended as a signifier of male devotion to a Republican France was fundamentally transformed by the women who took part in the style. Unsurprisingly, the visual association between female and male Republicanism was not warmly greeted by all. Women coiffed à la Titus were continually derided in the press as frivolous, de-feminized, or too outspoken in a time when women were not free to exercise an independent voice—or, at least not without repercussions. Without their hair, a traditional mode of femininity, women were considered “disfigured.”4 In spite of the recoil by many men the coiffure à la Titus remained popular until around 1810, when images and mentions in publications began to cease. For a style that was met with continual opposition at every turn, this was a remarkably long time for the controversial cut to remain in vogue. Although it is unclear how most women with the coiffure à la Titus truly felt about the style, I would like to think that its long span of popularity was a testament to a sense of liberation felt by women with very few options for self-representation. The Revolution had not delivered to women the same freedoms granted to their male counterparts and Napoleon was even less receptive to female empowerment. Fashion, one of the few avenues through which women could exert a degree of autonomy, seemed to serve women well in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Under the Directory period an entire industry devoted to women’s fashion interests burgeoned, most prominently through fashion periodicals. Even less wealthy women were able to create their own public identities as they had never been able to before. There were, however, mitigating factors which shaped the coiffure à la Titus. Early images of the Titus picture it as a short, rough, and often spiked look (Figure 3). As pictorial representations progressed, the style began to take on a more refined, beautified approach. Beginning in about 1800, images increasingly showed the women cut à la Titus to add more 4 C. M. P. H., Critique de la Coiffure à la Titus pour les Femme, (Paris: Imprimerie de Fain, c. 1800). 9 “feminine” accoutrements to their hair, most commonly with flowers. The short style was more often represented as curled and pomaded. It seems likely that this transformation was a concession to accusations that the coiffure à la Titus meant to give women the same visual presence as men. Regardless of such amends, the criticisms never ceased. A cartoon published in 1810 by the English satirist James Gillray satirized French women’s fashion (Figure 4). Titled “The Progress of the Toilet—Dress Completed,” it caricatured a revealingly dressed woman with her hair cut into the Titus, which is well styled and smooth. The implication of the cartoon was that the coiffure à la Titus was the woman’s head undressed. Seemingly, no modifications to the style would ever assuage the outrage of its critics. The Titus could be given flowers and curls, but the leopard could never change its spots. This thesis examines the “lifespan” of the coiffure à la Titus and the broader implications of gender and politics in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic periods. As a mode of visual representation, the importance of hair is rarely discussed in length by art historians. This seems, to me, to be a misstep. Particularly during the 1790s, when revolutionaries like Jacques-Louis David sought to create a new visual language for a new France, hair spoke to an entire codification of social relations. The narrative that the coiffure à la Titus followed paradoxically conformed to and overturned these distinctions at various points in its popularity. Ultimately, the hairstyle disappeared from fashion approximately fifteen years after women first appropriated it, only to be replaced by elaborate and categorically “feminine” styles with no hint of influence from the Titus. For women who lived in the time of the coiffure à la Titus, the hairstyle is all too emblematic of the hopes and unfulfilled promises of the French Revolution. 10