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There exists a peculiar and inherent logic within the artistic depiction of a man bearing an ox-like visage, a conceptualization originally articulated by the French painter Charles le Brun. Such an individual is rendered with a fundamental air of reliability, suggesting a life defined by arduous labor and physical endurance. Conversely, a man with the countenance of a fox is immediately and unambiguously identified as a thief. These zoomorphic stereotypes endowed contemporary observers with the capacity to assess character and social standing in a single, instantaneous glance. Such conceptual frameworks proved exceptionally utilitarian for le Brun, who was tasked with the monumental responsibility of decorating the newly constructed palace of King Louis XIV at Versailles in 1669.
This massive undertaking encompassed grand allegorical paintings densely populated with figures drawn from mythology, ancient history, and biblical scripture. In such crowded and complex scenes, artists confronted a formidable challenge: how to clearly distinguish between an emperor and a slave, or between a despotic ruler and a courtesan, without the aid of explanatory text. The need for visual clarity was paramount in conveying the hierarchical and moral structures of the narrative. Without these visual codes, the intricate stories told in the palace halls would have been indecipherable to the viewer.
The solutions le Brun provided to this intricate question proved vital to the many members of the flourishing artistic community in seventeenth-century Paris. Le Brun was a precocious child from a distinguished artistic family, yet he was equally a man who operated firmly within the established institutions of his era. He played an instrumental role in founding both the Gobelins Manufactory, which produced furnishings for royal palaces, and the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture. On March 28, 1671, he delivered a pivotal lecture to the students of the Académie concerning human-animal physiognomy. This was the rigorous study of how physical features reveal the underlying character of an individual. Regrettably, the original text of this lecture was subsequently lost to history, leaving a void that later generations would attempt to fill.
The Dissertation featured here was published in 1806 under the authority of the Musée Napoléon, which was the official designation for the Louvre Museum between 1803 and 1816. This volume attempts to reconstruct the lost lecture by utilizing the extensive work of Claude Nivelon. Nivelon was a protégé and scribe for le Brun who lived from 1648 to 1720. The book brings together thirty-seven etchings and engravings meticulously made from le Brun's original drawings. These images were introduced by a "dissertation" written by Louis-Marie-Joseph Morel d'Arleux. He served as the curator of prints and drawings at the Musée Napoléon. His text was derived from an unpublished biography of le Brun written by Nivelon, serving as a bridge between the 17th-century academy and the 19th-century imperial revival.
This profound desire for le Brun's guidance likely contributed significantly to the lasting influence of his book, Méthode pour apprendre à dessiner les passions. This title translates to A Method to Learn to Design the Passions. It was published posthumously after le Brun died in 1698. According to the scholar Cecilia Sjöholm, le Brun's Méthode was an ambitious attempt to illustrate and aestheticize the principles of human emotion. These principles had been sketched out by René Descartes a few decades earlier in his seminal book The Passions of the Soul, published in 1649. Descartes insisted that emotion, even if it originates within the mind, exerts a distinct external effect. He argued that the body and mind function in concert to create feelings. This meant that artists were compelled to learn to depict the anguish of Mary or the self-satisfaction of Alexander with scientific precision.
The old medieval faces were no longer acceptable in this new artistic paradigm. Artists could no longer paint impassive faces that looked serenely out at the viewer, detached from the internal struggle. The Méthode helped to systematize Descartes' thoughts, offering a codified approach to expression. It demonstrated the correct angle for every facial feature to embody a specific emotion with mathematical precision.
The Dissertation serves as a supplement to this earlier work, examining markers of character that are less temporary than fleeting emotions. Nevertheless, Morel d'Arleux insists that it is not a lesson on morality per se. He assures us that the task is simply the advancement of Art. This is not the common mistake made by some "credulous beings" who erroneously believe they can distinguish moral imperfections in people by locating physical imperfections.
Still, he admits that it is true that prominent men often possess prominent noses. Everyone since the time of Aristotle has agreed on this factual correlation. An aquiline nose is a necessary component of a hero's face. This feature is accompanied by a wide and raised forehead. It also includes thick eyebrows and eyes angled in a specific, deliberate way. The description notes that the interior corners of the eyes make an angle above the horizontal line. This line then cuts only through the outer corner. Any variation from this theme is a sure sign that Minerva, the patron goddess of geniuses, has never come to visit.
The beakish nose is only suitable for the eagle-like figure. This person is resolute in his toga, embodying strength and authority. Le Brun's raven-man, who frowns toward the viewer and caws in a three-quarter profile, is prone to the "most condemnable" passions. This might be because, as Aristotle argued, the nose is under the rule of Venus. The parrot-man, who wears a soft cloth cap, may remind us of a Renaissance philosopher. However, a parrot's beak is a sure sign of the babillard outré. This phrase describes an extreme babbler or chatterer, someone whose speech is as relentless and noisy as the bird itself.
The visual examples in the Dissertation provide a strange and vivid catalog of human types based on animal features. The ox-man stands for labor and endurance, a figure of unwavering stability. His heavy brow and broad nose suggest a steady, unyielding nature. The fox-man, with his pointed features, signals cunning and theft. These images were not merely artistic exercises; they were essential tools for storytellers. Painters could use them to instantly communicate the nature of a character to the audience without needing words. In the complex scenes at Versailles, where hundreds of figures might appear, this visual clarity was essential for narrative cohesion.
Le Brun's work represents a critical bridge between ancient philosophy and modern psychology. Aristotle believed that character and body shape were fundamentally linked. Descartes showed that emotion drives physical change. Le Brun combined these ideas into a practical system for artists. He suggested that if you wanted to paint a villain, you should give them the nose of a bird of prey. If you wanted to paint a saint, you should give them the forehead of a hero. This system became the standard for academic art for centuries. It taught artists that the face is a map of the soul, and that the soul often wears the mask of an animal.
The book itself, published more than a century after le Brun's death, was a revival of these old ideas. The French government, now under the Empire, wanted to reconnect with the grand traditions of Louis XIV. The Musée Napoléon played a key role in this cultural revival. By reprinting le Brun's work, they preserved a unique record of how art was taught in the past. The etchings allow us to see the precision of le Brun's drawings. They show the careful calculation of lines and angles that defined the academy's approach to representation.
Today, we might view these ideas as outdated or even prejudiced. We know that a person's character cannot be accurately judged by their nose or eyebrows. We understand that the science of physiognomy was often used to justify racism and classism. However, we must also appreciate the artistic intent behind these representations. Le Brun wanted to create a universal language of expression. He wanted to make the invisible world of emotion visible on a canvas. His work forces us to think about how we read faces in our own lives. We still use stereotypes to judge others quickly. We still associate certain shapes with certain traits. Le Brun's hybrids remind us that this impulse is deeply human.
The Dissertation remains a fascinating document of art history. It captures a moment when science, art, and philosophy were deeply intertwined in a single discipline. It shows how a single artist could shape the visual culture of an entire era. The thirty-seven plates in the book are a treasure trove for students of art. They offer a glimpse into the mind of Charles le Brun. They show us a world where the line between human and beast was thin, and where the face was the most important tool in the artist's kit. The legacy of le Brun's work lives on in our understanding of how we draw and how we see.