The sacrifice of a vestal in a temple

Attributed to Jean-Pierre SAINT-OURS

The sacrifice of a vestal in a temple

Oil on its original canvas
45 x 55 cm

Provenance:

Tajan sale, June 23, 1997, under the title Coresus and Callirhoe, as by Guillon Lethière

Tajan sale, October 21, 1999, under the title Coresus and Callirhoe, as by Guillon Lethière

Tajan sale, October 19, 2005, under the title Coresus and Callirhoe, attributed to Guillon Lethière

Tajan sale, June 18, 2007, under the title Coresus and Callirhoe, attributed to Guillon Lethière

Bibliography:

Anne de Herdt, Jean-Pierre Saint-Ours, Catalogue of the Work, Musées d’art et d’histoire de Genève, 2019

We propose to attribute this sketch, circa 1785, to the body of work of Jean-Pierre Saint-Ours.

A consummate history painter, Jean-Pierre Saint-Ours brilliantly embodies the grandeur of Neoclassicism. Born in Geneva, Switzerland, he came from an influential family of minor Dauphinois nobility, whose earlier generations had distinguished themselves through various artisanal pursuits, notably in the operation of tanning mills. It was likely under the influence of his father, Jacques Saint-Ours, that Jean-Pierre developed an early and profound interest in the arts. Jacques had founded a drawing school in Nyon, in the canton of Bern, intended for artisans—a school considered highly beneficial by magistrates for the advancement of local manufacturing. While teaching the techniques of engraving, chasing, and enamel painting, Jacques used this environment to train his son in these practices.

The young artist thus grew up in a cultivated milieu where he developed both the practice and theory of art by studying ancient literary, theological, and philosophical sources, drawing inspiration from the Encyclopédie, which taught him the principles of social justice, civic duty, independence, and fraternity—ideals that would become central to his oeuvre.

Sent to Paris at the age of 17, his talent quickly earned him a place in the studio of the celebrated Joseph-Marie Vien (1716–1809) at the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture. There, he met the young Jacques-Louis David, then 21, preparing to compete for the Grand Prix de Rome, which David would win in 1774 with Antiochus and Stratonice. In Vien’s studio, students were trained in drawing and history painting according to the doctrine of the “ideal beauty,” a principle Saint-Ours absorbed and applied through themes from ancient history and historical allegory. His career was remarkable: just two years after arriving in Paris, he received a first medal for his life drawing, then in 1774 the Caylus Prize for the study of heads and expressions of the passions, and in 1778 the second Grand Prize for painting. His growing acclaim culminated in 1780 when he won the Grand Prix de Rome with The Abduction of the Sabine Women, a challenging subject requiring mastery of anatomy and emotional expression.
Tragically, however, as a Protestant from Calvin’s city, he was denied entry to the French Academy in Rome, housed in the Papal capital.

Despite this setback, and with the help of some resources granted with the prize, Saint-Ours chose to travel to Rome independently. His stay there left a lasting imprint on his art. A history painter fascinated by the Eternal City, he drew inspiration from its splendor for his compositions (ill. 1). His works frequently depict scenes from mythology and ancient history, which he knew intimately. It is most likely during this Roman period that the artist created our painting.

Ambitious and eager for recognition, the painter undertook the execution of complex and detailed compositions, never omitting the historical narrative. A diligent student of the rules that defined the Neoclassical movement, he prioritized drawing and solid structural design in his works. To achieve this, he produced many painted sketches, or modelli, whether preparatory or autonomous from his final compositions. Our painting fits squarely within this corpus. True to the formal legacy of Antiquity, he places his figures in carefully ordered architectural settings. Here, the composition likely takes place in a temple dedicated to Vesta, as suggested by the bronze statue visible in the background at the right.

Though secondary in the structural design of the composition, color plays an essential role in the final version. A gifted colorist, the painter employs primary tones—yellow, blue, and red in the draperies—to highlight the central action, set in sharp contrast with the subdued, monochromatic background. This chromatic selection reinforces the theatrical dimension so prized in the Neoclassical aesthetic.

It is useful to compare our work with The Continence of Scipio (ill. 2). Of a similar format, both sketches present a sacrificial theme through carefully studied compositions, structured both horizontally and vertically in keeping with Neoclassical compositional rigor.

Through a sophisticated play of light, the artist relegates the crowd to the background, immersed in a grayish-pink, almost spectral half-light, thus diminishing its presence to heighten the dramatic intensity of the foreground. To the left, a group of weeping women, drawn in soft, flowing lines, is dominated by a central figure dressed in white—suggestive of a vestal—wavering and almost ethereal in appearance. On the right, tension crystallizes around a group of men, with two figures standing out: one, arm raised, brandishes a sword, while his left hand grasps the toga of an older man, as if to halt his retreat.

As with most scenes drawn from Antiquity, this one carries a moral dimension. Our work likely represents an episode involving the sacrifice of one of the priestesses of the goddess Vesta, guardian of Rome’s sacred hearth. Although several clues suggest the painting depicts the condemnation of a vestal, some elements remain enigmatic. At the center of the composition, the sacred fire appears to have been rekindled, emitting a thick white smoke. According to Roman rituals, when a vestal was suspected of breaking her vow of chastity or allowing the flame to extinguish, she was judged by the Pontifex Maximus, the high priest of Rome—possibly the figure at the far right. Yet his posture—recoiling or fleeing—raises questions. All figures appear horrified by the judgment, except for one man in a yellow toga at the center-right, whose resolute demeanor starkly contrasts with the general state of shock.

Deeply committed to moral ideals, social justice, and civic duty, Saint-Ours unsurprisingly engaged in the Geneva Revolution upon his return in 1792. He thus put his art at the service of his political convictions, producing works embodying the ideals of equality and citizenship until 1796, when the Reign of Terror and its accompanying violence disillusioned him. Active until his death in 1809, Saint-Ours gradually turned to portraiture—the surest way to explore the psychology of his sitters—leaving behind a precious visual testimony to Geneva’s Enlightenment-era society.

M.O