Une éruption monumentale du Vésuve ("A monumental eruption of Vesuvius") by Pierre-Jacques Volaire

From 1748 onwards, the Pompeii excavations sparked a revival of interest in the ancient city among artists and wealthy enthusiasts. Painters who had come to Italy to complete their training, as well as amateurs wishing to make the "Grand Tour" of Europe, converged on Naples, attracted by the spectacle of Vesuvius. The volcano erupted seven times in the second half of the 18th century, with major outbursts in 1794 and 1804. But it was the eruption of 1779 that made the most lasting impression, reminiscent of the one in 79 A.D. that buried Pompeii and neighbouring cities in ash.

Pierre-Jacques Volaire, born into a family of artists in Toulon in 1729, spent seven years from 1754 to 1762 as assistant to the painter Joseph Vernet, known for his famous series of canvases depicting the Ports of France. Volaire moved to Italy, first to Rome in 1764, then to Naples in 1767, where he witnessed several eruptions of Mount Vesuvius and produced his first paintings. He was soon followed by many other painters from all over Europe, including the Austrian Michael Wutky and the British Joseph Wright of Derby, whose volcano vedutes were widely distributed. Michael Wukty, like Volaire, had the opportunity to climb Vesuvius and experience eruptions first-hand. Wutky sometimes accompanied Lord William Hamilton, English ambassador and pioneer of vulcanology, on dangerous ascents. The eruption of a volcano as a subject perfectly suited the tastes of the late 18th century. Far from the iridescent representations of nature by Claude Lorrain, natural disasters and great waterfalls fascinated a public increasingly sensitive to the aesthetics of the sublime, that "delicious terror" recently described by Edmund Burke in his Philosophical Research on the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, 1757, in the face of the splendor of nature.

Volaire depicts Vesuvius in three different ways, depending on the customer's budget, taste, experience of the volcano and the eruption witnessed: from the shore of the Gulf of Naples, from the eastern edge of the city, with the Magdalena Bridge, or, as here, from the Atrio del Cavallo. Among the many views of the eruption painted by Volaire, this one stands out for its chromatic contrast, also used by Joseph Wright of Derby at the same time. The incandescent volcano and its glowing smoke occupy only the left half of the picture, contrasting on the right with a nocturnal seascape against a mountain backdrop, bathed in moonlight. This formula seems to have been so successful that many of Volaire's paintings use this device in either monumental works or smaller formats (119.7 x 247 cm, Christie's sale, London, 08.07.2005; 101.5 x 153 cm, Drouot-Richelieu sale, 23.03.2018; 56.8 x 89.9 cm, Christie's sale, New York, 30.01.2013 and 57 x 90 cm, Galerie Corsini).

As is often the case with Vesuvius painters, a picturesque scene accompanies the sublime spectacle, recalling both the scale of the landscape and the attitude of the curious onlookers, more excited than frightened. The Souvenirs of the painter Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun provides an illuminating account of this quest for entertainment: « Now I'm going to tell you about my favorite spectacle, Vesuvius.

For a moment, I would make myself Vesuvian, so much do I love this superb volcano, and I think it loves me too, for it has celebrated and welcomed me in the most grandiose way. [...] Before nightfall, we were on the mountain to see the ancient lava and the sunset into the sea. The volcano was more furious than ever, and as during the day you can't see any fire, all you can see coming out of the crater, with clouds of ash and lava, is an enormous whitish, silvery smoke, which the sun illuminates in an admirable way. I have painted this effect, for it is divine. [...] Finally night came, and the smoke turned into flames, the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life. Sprays of fire shot up from the crater in rapid succession, throwing flaming stones on all sides, which fell with a crash. At the same time, a cascade of fire descended over a distance of four to five miles. Another mouth of the crater, further down, was also ablaze, producing a red and golden smoke that completed the spectacle in a frightening and sublime way. »

This painting was commissioned by the farmer-general Pierre-Jacques-Onésyme Bergeret de Grancourt during his stay in Italy for his Château de Nègrepelisse near Montauban. Bergeret de Grancourt was an art lover, and had been a free associate of the Royal Academy of Painting since 1754. He was particularly close to great 18th-century painters such as Natoire, Boucher, Lagrené l'aîné, Hubert-Robert and Fragonard. On his father's death in 1771, he inherited a considerable fortune, including the Château de Nègrepelisse, the Hôtel de la Place des Victoires, the Château de Nointel...

In the diary of his trip to Italy, Bergeret de Grancourt recounts his meeting with Volaire and his intention to buy a work from him: "Saturday April 23. We had to decide to go and see Vesuvius, which was waiting for us to erupt and pour its lava. [...]. We weren't back home in Naples until midnight [...]. I was with a painter named M. Volaire, who succeeded superbly in rendering the horror of Vesuvius, a painting of which I shall bring back". (Bergeret de Grandcourt, Voyage d'Italie, 1773-1774, Paris, Michel de Romilly, 1948, pp. 104-105)

The painting was engraved and published in Voyage pittoresque ou description des royaumes de Naples et de Sicile by Abbé de Saint-Non (1781-1786). The commentary accompanying the print tells us that it refers to the eruption of May 14, 1771, observed from a valley called Atrio di Cavallo, which lies roughly two-thirds of the way up Vesuvius.

Emilie Beck Saiello, Le chevalier Volaire, un peintre français à Naples au XVIIIe siècle, Naples, Centre Jean Bérard, 2004.

Emilie Beck Saiello, Pierre Jacques Volaire (1729-1799) ; dit le Chevalier Volaire, Paris, Arthéna, 2010.

J. O., Bergeret de Grandcourt, Voyage d’Italie, 1773-1774, avec les dessins de Fragonard, introduction et notes de Jacques Wilhelm, Paris, Michel de Romilly, 1948, p. 104 et 105.