How Painters Play on the Great Confusion: Proper Bourgeoise or Utterly Cocotte?
- Art d'Histoire
- Feb 23
- 6 min read
In the 19th century, scientists, politicians, philosophers, writers, the bourgeois, were obsessed with classification of all kinds. Social order was maintained by a strict moral geography. Historian Alain Corbin identified two opposing trilogies that were supposed to keep the world intelligible: on one side, the honest woman dedicated to "work, economy, and happiness"; on the other, the prostitute lost in "idleness, luxury, and pleasure."
However, the visual reality of the Second Empire and the Third Republic shattered these theoretical barriers, - at least in the French capital. As the century progressed, the visual boundary between the respectable lady and the "gallant" woman began to blur.
This anxiety is perfectly captured in a period caricature set at the Chantilly racecourse. Two men observe the crowd: one points out that the left side is reserved for the cocottes (the "does") and the right for married women (the "stags"). The punchline? They look exactly the same. "Honest? Not that much," remarks one character in a Salon caricature, "she seems to have as many admirers as the cocotte."
To navigate this chaos, society erected a fortress of etiquette rules. Every gesture, every accessory, and every glance became a code to distinguish virtue from vice. But as we shall see, these codes were constantly subverted and played by artists.
The War of the Glove and the Carriage
In the street, the first line of defense was the hand. For a woman of the world, "nudity" of the hand in public was an unthinkable indiscretion. As the Baroness de Staffe famously, a kind of influencer in her own time, wrote in her treatises on usages, gloves alone indicate the rank one occupies on "Jacob's Ladder" of society.
While some men, motivated by misplaced snobbery or a desire to show off their "white and well-shaped hands," began to appear ungloved at the Opera or in the street, for a woman, this was strictly forbidden. To remove one's gloves outside the home was an intrusion of intimacy into the public sphere, a signal of availability that a respectable woman could not afford to send.
The rules extended to transport, specifically the carriage. The intimacy of a closed vehicle was dangerous. A young "maid of honour" could never be seen alone in a carriage with a man. A painter like Tissot would play with these rules to create charming ambiguities.
The Art of Mud Walking and of Skirt Lifting
The streets of the French capital were notoriously dirty. In order to navigate the mud of Paris without ruining her clothes, a woman had to lift her skirt. However, even this practical gesture could be sexualised.
Treatises on politeness were strict: a lady must lift her dress with her right hand and never, never higher than the ankle. To use the left hand, or to reveal the beginning of a calf, was to signal that one was a "trottin" or a solicitor. This created a climate of intense voyeurism. While bourgeois morality preached modesty, some men purchased walking sticks equipped with small mirrors at the tip, designed specifically to spy on these forbidden ankles. As Jean-Claude Bologne noted, bourgeois hypocrisy was in full swing, and painters like Jean Béraud immortalised these ambiguous moments on the windy bridges of Paris, where a gust of wind could ruin a reputation.
This ambiguity spilled into the workspace. The milliner and the trottin (the young apprentice running errands) were figures of fascination. Though they were workers, they were often dressed "with more coquetry than good taste." Their shops were viewed by men not as businesses, but as hunting grounds where "bankers and Russian princes" went to find a mistress. The "trottin," carrying her hatbox through the streets, was seen as a girl in transit between the working class and the "gallant" life, using her trade as a stepping stone to finding a "Golden Calf" (a rich protector). Jean Béraud depicts one of them in his painting Paris, Rue du Havre, in which she appears to be lifting her skirt with her 'inappropriate' hand.
The Devil’s Paint: Lips and Cheeks
The face was another battleground. For some centuries, Christian iconography had associated bright red lips with Satan and hellfire—devils were depicted with flaming mouths. In the 19th century, Queen Victoria declared makeup "impolite," abandoning it to actresses and prostitutes.
However, the temptation was great. While "honest" women were advised to use only discreet balms like Guerlain's "Liquid Bloom of Roses" to simulate health, the bright red mouth remained a marker of the courtesan. Sarah Bernhardt caused a scandal by wearing red lips off-stage.
It wasn't until the early 20th century that the meaning shifted dramatically. Suffragettes, supported by department stores like Selfridges in 1910, reclaimed red lipstick not as a sign of vice, but as a symbol of female emancipation and power. The red lip became a political statement, further confusing the old codes of "virtue."
The "Red Flag" of Lust
If makeup was a choice, hair color was a destiny. In the collective imagination of the time, red hair was inextricably linked to animalistic lust. Criminologist Cesare Lombroso went so far as to claim that while 0% of "normal" women were redheads, 48% of criminals were.
The famous courtesan Cora Pearl embraced this stigma, turning her dyed red hair into a banner of seduction, famously declaring, "He who loves me, follows me!" Fashionable women soon began dyeing their hair with mixtures of ammonia and crushed brick to imitate the "demi-monde," effectively adopting the "uniform" of the prostitute !
Literature reinforced this fetish. In Émile Zola's Nana, the protagonist transforms physically as she embraces her role as a high-class prostitute. Her blonde hair turns into a "golden mane," and her body becomes covered in a reddish down, turning her into a "beast" that men like Count Muffat desire to bite. Brothel owners were well aware of this fantasy, ensuring their establishments always housed at least one redhead to satisfy the clientele.
Violated Sanctuaries: The Mirror and the Shop
The blurring of lines invaded the home. The dressing room (cabinet de toilette) was traditionally the wife's sanctuary, a place Balzac said a husband should never enter unless he was a "philosopher or a fool."
But the introduction of the psyche (full-length mirror) changed the dynamic. In Zola’s novels, the mirror becomes a tool not for hygiene, but for erotic self-contemplation. When Count Muffat watches Nana preen herself in the mirror, he is committing a double indecency: invading a private space and participating in her narcissistic performance. Edouard Manet painted this scene of Nana before Émile Zola had even written about her.
Nevertheless, it was considered an offensive display of narcissism and eroticism for a woman to view her naked body in such a large mirror. Thanks to new technology, this large mirror is now mass-produced and welcome in a respectable bourgeois family — provided it is used to adjust a coat or hat before leaving the house.
The Ultimate Transgression: The Nun and the Whore
The confusion reached its peak when vice appropriated the ultimate symbols of virtue. The 19th century harbored a deep, blasphemous fascination with the figure of the nun.
On one hand, academic painters eroticized Mary Magdalene, depicting the saint as a sensual, half-naked penitent (as seen in works by Baudry or Lefebvre, who painted her who painted her with red hair and in a state of ecstasy). On the other hand, real-life brothels capitalized on this fantasy.
Léo Taxil reported that many brothels kept nun costumes in their wardrobes for "devout" clients. Prostitutes like Eugénie Guillou used their past experiences as novices to offer specialized services, such as flagellation, while dressed in religious habits. Even the literature of the time, cataloged in the Enfer (Hell) section of the library, was filled with titles like The Nun in a Shirt or Monastic Intrigues. In this final twist, the distinction between the saint and the sinner was not just blurred—it was completely erased for profit.
This blog is based on the anthologies of primary sources offered by Art d'Histoire Academy.
Find the complete documents analyzed in this article:
Enjoy our free video conferences on the subject!
The Art d’Histoire Academy platform specialises in primary sources and digitised archives covering the period of French art history from 1850 to 1910.
It offers clear, structured, interactive videos, accompanied by a library of over a thousand anthology articles composed of explained, contextualised primary sources.
Whether you are preparing for an exam, competition, exhibition or publication, the Art d’Histoire Academy will support you.
The archives become a space for inspiration and success for all passionate researchers.
