The Painting: A man with a mustache and closed eyes is depicted in profile from the waist up, lying in a bed. He wears what appears to be a sort of turban and open white shirt, with the weight of his head and elbows forming a deep lozenge-shaped impression in the ample pillow and bedding. On the left, behind the bedstead, is a red curtain; a note rests on a side table in the lower left corner; a blue military uniform and weapons are glimpsed hanging on the wall. A portion of the pistol with which the man has just shot himself to death lies on the bed at the right edge of the picture. The victim was Anne François Henry Letellier (1783–1818), who had served as a general in Napoleon’s
Grande Armée.[1]
Letellier’s misfortune was recounted by Louis Bro de Comères (1781–1844).[2] The men were residents of the area of Paris known as La Nouvelle Athènes, which Gericault also called home.[3] Letellier became distraught following the death on June 16, 1818, of his nineteen-year-old wife, the result of a carriage accident.[4] Taken in by Bro and his wife, Laure de Comères (1788–1845), Letellier took meals with the family and even played with their son, Olivier Bro de Comères (1813–1874). After two weeks elapsed, Letellier seemed to recover, and he returned home.
Bro wrote that he then visited Letellier every morning, but “on the fifth day [July 9, 1818], early in the morning, an urgent word from Letellier summoned me to him. I alerted Théodore Géricault and we went to the general’s together. He was in his bed, covered with white sheets, dressed in an equally white shirt, his head wrapped in his wife's scarf, his dear late one’s handkerchief still wrapped tightly around one of his wrists, his teeth even clenching several of her rings. A pistol was in his bed, still warm. He had pierced his own heart moments before the arrival of his friends.”
The next day, the periodical
Journal de Paris published the following account:
"We have just learned of the tragic end of General Letellier. He was unable to survive [the loss of] his wife, who died late last month following an unfortunate accident. Since that fatal event, he had not ceased to complain about his misfortune, and did not hide from his friends that he would soon be rejoining the one whom he had just lost. He kept his word all too well. Yesterday morning, having sent his servant to one of his friends with a letter announcing his fatal plans, and free of witnesses, he shot himself in the heart and ceased to live. His friend [Bro de Comères], who had run to the General’s home at 7 rue Saint-Fiacre to call him to his senses, in case there was still time, found him stretched out on his bed, drowned in his own blood, with, near his heart, his left hand, around which was a braid of his wife’s hair, as well as a handkerchief that she had used a few moments before her death. The last of his wishes, which, with the expression of the most touching sensitivity, he requested the execution, in the note addressed to his friend, is to be buried next to his wife, at Saint-Port, where she rests.
All those who knew General Letellier will mourn his untimely end. When still very young, he obtained the rank of
maréchal-de-camp for his rare bravery. Death had spared him amidst the greatest danger, and respected his courage, as when he recaptured the redoubts of Dresden [on August 26, 1813]. At his last hour, seeking to dissipate his troubles by reading [Michel de] Montaigne's
Essays, he seems to have put down the book when he came to this passage: ‘the most freely chosen death is the most beautiful’ [with citation to edition published by Jean-François Bastien, Paris, 1783, vol. 2, p. 28]. The volume was found open to the page that contains those words. If the naive expressions of this philosopher contributed to the determination of the one whose deplorable end we are announcing, then Balzac will have been right to say that Montaigne ‘is a guide who misleads.’"[5]
Bro continued: “He had put all his affairs in order. I was designated his executor, which would not be an easy task. He bequeathed to me his arms, medals, and military uniforms, on the condition that his wife be exhumed and reunited with him, not only in the same tomb, but on the same bier. First we had to transport the suicide victim to Saint-Maur [sic] to negotiate both with the authorities, who argued against the dangers of exposing a body buried for two months, and with the refusal of the workers, who were reluctant to perform such a task . . . . Finally, Letellier's last wishes were carried out . . . . And my good friend Géricault turned these obsequies into a touching subject . . . . Should I add? . . . Poor Letellier owned a little English dog named Lowe, who was black and had a fiery temperament. He had given her to me during his stay with me; but the poor beast obstinately returned to her master, who brought her back to us. After the general’s death, she ran away again, then returned to the home of the dead, and wailed. Brought back to the rue des Martyrs, she there died of grief.”
Related Works: Gericault made a drawing (see fig. 1 above), very probably at the scene of the suicide, and altered the composition somewhat for this painting, the “touching subject” mentioned by Bro, who evidently received it as a gift from the artist. There is another larger, painted version of
General Letellier on his Deathbed in the Sammlung Oskar Reinhart ‘Am Römerholz’ in Winterthur, Switzerland (inv. 1953.2).[6]
Among the works by Gericault that the Bro de Comères family owned were two widely regarded as among the artist’s greatest portrait paintings. One depicts Laure de Comères seated in a chair before a large, paneless window, with a sheer curtain slightly obscuring a pastoral view (fig. 2).[7] Laure’s left hand is gloved, her right is not, and her veiled hat sits on a bureau, begging the question of whether the sitter has recently returned or is soon to leave. The other portrait depicts the smiling young Olivier brandishing a saber astride a ferociously protective dog (fig. 3).[8] These works are intimately related to
General Letellier on his Deathbed and to the circumstances of its genesis.
The Theme: The theme of mortality was one of Gericault’s major preoccupations, and it was also keyed to the historical moment: the period following the tumultuous decades from 1789 to 1815, which were defined by the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Empire, and the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy. Sacrifice and glory were lauded as signal virtues of this epoch, as represented by Jacques Louis David’s
Death of Socrates, of 1787 (The Met
31.45), as well as in the same artist’s modern political martyrdom scenes, such as
Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau on his Deathbed, of 1793 (lost). What more effective way to transcend the reality of violence and death than to present it as a state of heroic selflessness? In
General Letellier, however, the fact of death eclipses any moralizing message. Gericault’s state of mind in the summer of 1818 can be discerned by the fact that the painter was then contemplating the execution of the
Raft of the Medusa (Musée du Louvre, Paris), which he would commit to canvas later the same year and complete in 1819. The human condition is the thread linking the universally scaled
Raft, Gericault’s most important painting, and the domestically scaled tragedy he portrayed in
General Letellier on his Deathbed.
Asher Miller 2021, updated 2023
[1] For the death certificate, see Archives de Paris, Actes de décès, côte V3E/D 939. On Letellier’s military career, see Archives Nationales, Base de données Léonore, notice no. L1619073 (under Letellier, H); and notice no. L0646036 (under Agoult d’, Louis Annibal). Online resources consulted April 26, 2023.
[2] See Bro de Comères1914, pp. 175–77. The French text that follows here is translated later in the present entry: “Le cinquième jour, de grand matin, un mot pressant de Letellier me mande auprès de lui. Je préviens Théodore Géricault et nous nous rendons ensemble chez le général. Il était dans son lit garni de draps blancs, revêtu d’une chemise également blanche, la tête entourée d’une écharpe de sa femme, un de ses poignets tenant encore, crispé, un mouchoir de la chère morte, ses dents même serrant plusieurs de ses bagues. Un pistolet était dans son lit, encore chaud. Il s’était traversé le cœur quelques moments avant l’arrivée de ses amis. Il avait pris toutes ses dispositions testamentaires. J’en étais expréssement l’exécuteur, ce qui ne devait pas être une sinécure. Il me léguait ses armes, décorations et uniformes militaires, à la condition de faire exhumer sa femme et de les réunir, non seulement dans le même tombeau, mais dans la même bière . . . . D’abord, transporter le suicidé à Saint-Maur, parlementer avec les autorités qui arguaient du danger de mettre à jour un corps enterré depuis deux mois, refus des ouvriers qui répugnaient à exécuter une pareille besogne . . . . Enfin, les dernières volontés de Letellier furent exécutées . . . . Et mon bon ami Géricault a fait de ces obsèques un sujet touchant . . . . Dois-je ajouter? . . . . Le pauvre Letellier avait une petite chienne anglaise nommé Lowe, noire et marquée de feu. Il me l’avait donnée pendant son séjour chez moi; mais la pauvre bête était retournée opiniâtrément chez son maître, qui nous l’avait ramenée. Après la mort du général, elle se sauva encore, rentra dans la maison mortuaire, y hurla. Ramenée rue des Martyrs, elle y mourut de chagrin.” See Chenique 1991, p. 280 (for the date of suicide) and p. 281 (for the place of interment: Seine-Port, not Saint-Maur).
[3] From 1813, Gericault and his father rented a house at 23, rue des Martyrs. Bro purchased the property on July 15, 1820, effectively becoming their landlord, at which point they moved to the “pavilion” in the garden that the painter had hitherto used as a studio. Neighbors included the family of the painter Horace Vernet, who had moved to 11, rue des Martyrs in 1815. See Chenique 1991, pp. 270, 275, 280, 299.
[4] See Anonymous,
Gazette de France, no. 169 (June 18, 1818), p. 663, which reported that she suffered for eighteen days before succumbing to her injuries.
[5] "Nous venons d’apprendre la fin tragique du général Letellier. Il n’a pu survivre à son épouse, qui mourut vers la fin du moi dernier, à la suite d’un accident fâcheux. Depuis ce fatal événement, il ne cessait de se plaindre de son infortune, et ne cachait point à ces amis que bientôt il irait rejoindre celle qu’il venait de perdre. Il a trop bien tenu sa parole. Hier matin, ayant envoyé son domestique chez un de ses amis, avec une lettre, par laquelle il annonçait son funeste dessein, libre de témoin, il s’est tiré un coup de pistolet dans le cœur et a cessé de vivre. Son ami qui était accouru chez le général, rue Saint-Fiacre, n. 7, pour le rappeler à la raison, s’il en était temps encore, l’a trouvé étendu sur son lit, noyé dans son sang et ayant près de son cœur sa main gauche, autour de laquelle était une natte de cheveux de son épouse, ainsi qu’un mouchoir foulard dont elle s’était servie peu d’instans avant sa mort. La dernière de ses volontés dont, avec l’expression de la plus touchante sensibilité, il a recommandé l’exécution, dans l’écrit adressé à son ami, est d’être enterré à côté de son épouse, à Saint-Port, où elle repose.
Tous ceux qui ont connu le général Letellier déploreront sa fin prématurée. Très-jeune encore, il était parvenu par une rare bravoure au grade de maréchal-de-camp. La mort l’avait épargné dans les plus grands dangers, et respecta son courage, particulièrement à la reprise des redoutes de Dresde. A son heur dernière, cherchant à dissiper ses ennuis par la lecture des
Essais de Montaigne, il paraît avoir quitté le livre lorsqu’il est arrivé à ce passage: ‘
la plus volontaire mort, c’est la plus belle’ (Tome II, page 28, édition de Bastien, 1783). On a trouvé le volume ouvert à la page qui contient ces mots. Si les naïves expressions du philosophe ont contribué à la détermination de celui dont nous annonçons la fin déplorable, Balzac aura eu raison de dire que Montaigne ‘est un guide qui égare.’" (Anonymous,
Journal de Paris, June 10, 1818, p. 1.) The author of the concluding quotation was Jean-Louis Guez de Balzac (1597–1654).
[6] For the drawing, which was also owned by Bro de Comères, see Grunchec 1985 and Bazin 1992, no. 1750. For the painting, see Bazin 1749A and Lang 2005.
[7] Bazin 1742.
[8] Bazin 1735.
