In a real detective story — especially when reopening a cold case — the sudden appearance of a new character can change everything. A forgotten witness, a shadowy suspect, and suddenly every lead must be reconsidered…

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BIENNALE DI SENIGALLIA

In a real detective story — especially when reopening a cold case — the sudden appearance of a new character can change everything. It’s the kind of twist that makes a good film memorable.

Well, the history of photography is no different. We thought we understood it all — Daguerre, Niépce, Talbot… — and then, here comes a new figure, quite real: Alphonse-Eugène Hubert (1797–1841).

Why is scientific truth so fragile? Why was Niépce, the true pioneer, kept in the shadows for so long? It takes only a bit of media buzz, a well-spun tale, and suddenly people get swept up by the story of a forgotten genius from the Brazilian jungle, credited with inventing everything: the concept, the name, the technique…

Hercule Florence is a perfect hero for those who wish to decenter the narrative and move beyond a Eurocentric perspective. The intention is fair — even necessary. But at times, in trying too hard to uncover neglected figures, one ends up exaggerating, or worse, falling for opportunistic reinventions.

Alphonse-Eugène Hubert wrote the first photographic manual specifically intended for artists. Self-published around June 1840, the original manuscript is partially displayed on this wall. Only two printed copies are known to survive today — from a print run of 500 — but they no longer circulate.

So why is Hubert different? Why is this not just another trend? Because Hubert was there — from the beginning. There’s no need to seek him at the edge of the world, no legends to embellish. His name appears quietly in the earliest accounts and archival traces.

Like in any investigation, the clues were always there, right under our noses — we just weren’t ready to see them. Eyewitness accounts from the optician Charles Chevalier and his son, research from 19th-century historians, and early inventories compiled by the venerable Société Française de Photographiemention his name without particular emphasis — but enough to allow Paul-Louis Roubert to publish in 2005 a bold and insightful article titled Hubert or the Honor of Daguerre.

Then came a discovery worthy of a novel: at the start of the 21st century, builders working near the Arts et Métiers district in Paris uncovered a hidden compartment in a wall. Inside: a folder filled with letters and manuscripts signed by Alphonse-Eugène Hubert.

Two of these manuscripts were eventually acquired by the Bibliothèque nationale de France. One reveals a series of private lessons given by Hubert to Frédéric Goupil-Fesquet in September 1839 — just before Goupil-Fesquet’s journey to Egypt, where, under the direction of the painter Horace Vernet, he would become the first photographer to document that region.

“Monsieur Hubert Architecte rue d’Enfer N°33 / Mon cher Hubert, tu fais du Daguerréotype avec les amis. Veux-tu permettre que Mr Goupil (qui va partir pour l’orient et qui veux se perfectionner dans cette opération chimique) assister à tes expériences? Tu lui rendras service ainsi qu’à ton vieux camarade. Hector Horeau, 15 7bre 1839”

“Monsieur Hubert Architecte rue d’Enfer N°33 / My dear Hubert, you’re making Daguerreotypes with friends. Will you allow Mr. Goupil (who is leaving for the Orient and wants to perfect this chemical operation) to attend your experiments? You’ll be doing him and your old friend a favor. Hector Horeau, 15 7bre 1839”.

And then, just two years ago, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, acquired a striking photographic plate signed by Hubert from the Lepage collection.

Bit by bit, the name Hubert is beginning to re-emerge.

Here, then, is a new figure to join the great narrative of photography — in the lineage of Niépce — one whose presence compels us to ask, quite simply:

Qui êtes-vous donc, Monsieur Daguerre?

WHO ARE YOU Mr DAGUERRE ?

Eugène Thiésson, Daguerriean portrait of Daguerre. Daguerre chose a rather unusual photographer for his portrait: Eugène Thiésson, a career military officer known for his volatile temperament and reputation for violence. A supporter of the Prince-President, he served as mayor of La Bazoche-Gouet (Eure-et-Loir) from October 7, 1850. His repressive approach to municipal governance made him so unpopular that he eventually only went out armed, before being replaced on August 9, 1860.

And what if Alphonse-Eugène Hubert was not simply the successor to Nicéphore Niépce in the history of the invention of photography? In that case, Daguerre’s role becomes much easier to understand: he can be seen as an entrepreneur, an impresario, perhaps a very clever agent, but ultimately someone who merely completed the process rather than truly inventing it.

One piece of evidence could be the letter from Charles François Farcy, editor of Le Journal des Artistes. On September 11, 1836, Farcy published an article by Hubert in direct — and quite cheeky — response to Daguerre’s earlier claims (published in the same journal the year before), in which Daguerre had declared his research was advancing well despite the loss of his partner Niépce. Hubert challenged him directly: “Mr. Daguerre, the camera obscura and drawings that make themselves…” :

“J’ai vu Mr Daguerre. L’article de Mr Hubert lui a mis la puce à l’oreille ; il n’a rien rétracté ; il m’a affirmé au contraire que dès l’année prochaine il montrerait ses résultats. Il prétend aller jusqu’au portrait produit instantanément! Il m’a ajouté d’autres choses de détail que j’aurai plaisir à dire à Mr Hubert. Son dévoué serviteur, Charles Farcy, 16 7bre” (16 septembre 1836)

“I have seen Mr. Daguerre. Mr. Hubert’s article piqued his curiosity. He retracted nothing; quite the contrary — he insisted that next year he would reveal his results. He claims he will even produce an instantaneous portrait! He added more details that I would be happy to share with Mr. Hubert. Your devoted servant, Charles Farcy, September 16, 1836.”

Hubert correspondence reveals a fascinating web of names for researchers and curious minds alike: Hippolyte Fizeau, Alfred Donné, and even the son of François Arago.

Alfred Arago (1815–1892). Note left for Alphonse-Eugène Hubert. Paris, September? 1839 “Mon cher Hubert, j’ai pris la liberté grande de prendre une épreuve fort belle du buste de mon père, qui désire vivement voir le résultat obtenu bien mieux. Excusez mon indiscrétion. Je vous la rapporterai demain matin tout à vous, Alfred Arago”

“My dear Hubert, I took the great liberty of taking a very beautiful proof of my father’s bust, who is very eager to see the result obtained much better. Please excuse my indiscretion. I will bring it back to you tomorrow morning. Yours, Alfred Arago.”

This handwritten note, left at the home of Alphonse-Eugène Hubert, documents a crucial episode that took place in 1839. Through his son Alfred, a painter, we sense the direct interest of the entire Arago family in the results of the photographic experiments carried out by Hubert. The “proof of the bust” mentioned in the note may refer to a cast or an ancient statue lent by Arago and used by Hubert to test the prototype of the daguerreotype. We find this bust mentioned again in the following note:

Alfred Donné. Note to the optician Soleil, 1839 : “Je prie Monsieur Soleil de demander de ma part à Monsieur Hubert de vouloir bien me laisser emporter pour quelque temps le buste de Monsieur Arago, il m’obligerait infiniment. Signé : Alfred Donné”

“I kindly ask Monsieur Soleil to request on my behalf that Monsieur Hubert allow me to take the bust of Monsieur Arago for a little while; it would mean a great deal to me. Signed: Alfred Donné.”

This brief note highlights the central role played by Alfred Donné from the earliest months of the invention of photography, as he addresses Soleil, a key figure in the nascent Parisian photography scene. Soleil’s shop, located in the Galerie Vivienne, still exists today and retains its original name in the mosaic floor.

The note shows how Donné connected with Alphonse-Eugène Hubert through Soleil to obtain the temporary loan of what is described as “the bust of Monsieur Arago.” It is plausible that this refers to a daguerreotype plate made by Hubert, depicting an ancient bust in a photographic composition. This episode illustrates the collaborative and experimental nature of early photography, with key figures exchanging photographic plates and equipment to advance their work.

It’s possible that among Hubert’s papers, we find what may be the first documented transaction in history treating a photograph as a work of art. In one letter, a client thanks Hubert for the “extraordinary composition” he provided—evidence that, even in these earliest days, photographs could be valued and exchanged not just as technical novelties, but as artistic creations.

“Monsieur, si mon existence occupée me tient étranger au mystère des sciences et des arts, mon admiration pour leurs merveilles s’accroit du moins de toute la chaleur de l’imagination. Je ne parlerai donc du tableau que vous avez bien voulu faire pour moi, qu’avec le sentiment d’une intelligence confondue d’un résultat aussi parfait. Ces formes si nettes, ces détails les plus délicats rendus avec une fidélité que l’imagination ne supposait pas possible, forment de cette production, un tout précieux ! Mais ce que je sens bien, parce que le cœur n’a pas de mystère, c’est la composition et la réunion des objets qui grâce à vous seront toujours sous mes yeux et tout ce qu’ajoute aux produits des arts, la considération respectueuse qui environne la main qui s’en est occupé. J’ai l’honneur d’être, avec les sentiments les plus distingués et vraiment reconnaissants, Monsieur, votre trés humble et très obéissant serviteur. signé Billand, Paris, 15 Novembre 1839”

“Sir, if my busy life keeps me distant from the mysteries of science and the arts, my admiration for their wonders only grows with all the warmth of imagination. I can only speak of the picture you were kind enough to create for me with the sense of an intelligence overwhelmed by such a perfect result. Those so sharply defined forms, those most delicate details rendered with a fidelity that imagination could never have supposed possible, make this work a truly precious whole! But what I feel most deeply—because the heart holds no mysteries—is the composition and arrangement of the objects which, thanks to you, will always remain before my eyes, and all that is added to the products of the arts by the respectful regard surrounding the hand that created them. I have the honor to be, with the most distinguished and truly grateful sentiments, Sir, your very humble and obedient servant. Signed: Billand, Paris, November 15, 1839.”

This letter constitutes one of the earliest indications of the birth of a photographic art market, in which a private client thanks the creator for a work likely commissioned or purchased. The document suggests that as early as November 1839, photography could be the subject of a transaction and social recognition, well before the formal structuring of an art market. It is therefore entirely reasonable to hypothesize that the case of Billand represents one of the first documented examples of a photographic sale or commission, with Hubert as a central figure in this emerging scenario.

To be seen next week at Palazzetto Baviera, upper floor

“Séance du lundi 25 mai 1840. Monsieur Hubert propose de se servir de l’action photographique pour enregistrer d’une manière continue les indications de divers instruments de météorologie au moyen d’un dispositif aisé à imaginer, l’indicateur de l’instrument viendrait se peindre à la surface d’un cylindre, tournant sur son axe d’un mouvement uniforme, exécutant une révolution dans l’espace de 24 heures. Ce cylindre étant préparé comme les plaques destinées à recevoir les images daguériennes, conserverait dans une sorte de traînée continue, la trace de l’indicateur, et représenterait ainsi une courbe dont chaque ordonnée représenterait l’instrument à l’heure indiquée par l’abscisse correspondante.”