| While preparing the auction catalog, I came across a name I didn’t recognize. Did you know that “Madame Disdéri” was a photographer? Have you ever heard of Elisabeth Francart?
No images? Click here Mme DISDERI
While preparing the auction catalog, I came across a name I didn’t recognize. A simple mention — Madame Disdéri. I assumed it referred to a recipient, perhaps a client, certainly not the author of a photograph. Her works are exceptionally rare, yet she had already attracted real attention — even a remarkable article published as early as 1984 about her and her husband, Disdéri. In recent years, with the growing interest in women artists, new research has returned to her life and work, applying verification methods and perspectives quite different from traditional bibliographical approaches. I must confess that I am in the process of convincing myself — and I would like to convince you — that her story could inspire a Hollywood or Netflix biopic. The life of this extraordinary artist and adventurer takes us into the first communities of free love in the early nineteenth century, among revolutionaries and convicts, millionaires and bankrupts, and even the grand duchesses of Russia. ELISABETH FRANCART
Jean Foucher’s 1984 study on the Disdéri family was inspired by research into Brest’s civil registry records, as also examined by Marie-Françoise Bastit-Lesourd (2006–2025). Because “Disdéri” is a unique name in Brest, Foucher’s curiosity led him to assemble a detailed dossier and consult Anne McCauley, Professor of the History of Photography at the University of New Mexico. Her 1977 thesis and subsequent publications spotlighted Adolphe Disdéri, but Foucher’s research also explored the enigmatic story of Disdéri’s wife, whose extended stay in Brest—apart from her husband—has long remained a mystery. Notably, in-depth research by Marc Durand and other archivists confirms that the name used by André-Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri was most often “Adolphe,” not “Eugène” as repeated by many modern sources. His signatures consistently bear the initial “A.” and his death certificate records him as “Adolphe Disdéri.” 1819. Born in Paris’s Second District on 28 March 1819, Adolphe Disdéri grew up as the eldest son in a large family. His father, Jean-André Disdéri, a fabric merchant of likely Italian origin, struggled with bankruptcies and frequent moves until his death in 1840. Unlike his family, Adolphe was not drawn to business but aspired to become a painter. He took classes with Chasselat but found practical experience lacking. Between 1837 and 1840, Disdéri managed the Théâtre de Grenelle in suburban Paris—an endeavor marked by hardship and creativity. An anonymous biography from 1862 recalls this period for its privation and the atmosphere Disdéri created, painting sets and embracing the romantic spirit that would later shape his photographic vision.
1840. At age twenty-one, following his father’s death, Disdéri took on head-of-family responsibilities. Despite uncertainty and financial pressure, he married Elisabeth Francart on March 8, 1843. 1845. This idyll did not spare him from the harsh necessities of daily life. Traveling salesman, lingerie maker, haberdasher—none of these ventures succeeded. His young wife was legally separated from his property by judgment of the Court of First Instance of the Seine, dated July 18, 1845. It would be rash to draw conclusions from this separation, since Mr. and Mrs. Disdéri would continue to share both triumphs and failures for the next twenty years—or rather, their lives would continue to intersect and cross paths time and again. 1847. Overwhelmed by debt, the couple moved to Brest, initially staying with Disdéri’s brother-in-law, Prosper Francart. (On March 13, 1848, a daughter, Marie-Colette-Léonie Disdéri, was born in Brest. Her maternal uncle, Prosper Francart, a 34-year-old civil engineer, signed the birth certificate.) Recent research has identified several members of the Francart family established in Brest, employed in professions connected with the Arsenal—as gunners, locksmiths, or foremen, and as skilled workers. Prosper, an active Freemason, was appointed Deputy Commissioner of the Republic after the Revolution of February 1848, only to be dismissed that September by the reactionary government of General Cavaignac. The Disdéris introduced the daguerreotype to Brest.
Disdéri also brought progressive political ideas to Brest. As a socialist, he maintained frequent contact with his brother-in-law, with Aristide Vincent, and with Joseph and Armand Le Doré—local idealist activists. Settling his family at 43 rue Saint-Yves, Disdéri nonetheless kept close ties with Paris, where he spent several months in 1849. 1850. Disdéri reappeared in Brest and on 21 March 1850, L’Armorican, a local newspaper, published a letter announcing a subscription to aid the June 1848 rioters detained on the prison hulk La Guerrière, which he helped circulate. Among the prisoners was another of Elisabeth’s brothers, Adolphe Francart. On May 4, Disdéri took part in a banquet at the Treillis-Vert, on the Glacis, celebrating the anniversary of the Republic. He wore the colors of the Universal Republic and the fraternity of peoples. He frequently visited the political prisoners held on the Pontons. On March 19 and 30, and again on April 21, 1850, accompanied by his friends Le Doré and several others, he greeted the exiled prisoners returning from forced labor with shouts of “Long live the democratic and socialist Republic!” Needless to say, he was under constant police surveillance. “Mr. Disdéri has advanced republican views; he can safely be classified as an enemy of the government. He earns his living by making daguerreotypes. His private conduct is orderly; his exaltation lies in his ideas, not in his actions.”— Archives of Finistère, 15 March 15 1850 Several elements suggest that the family workshop’s main activity—painting theater sets and dioramas—was particularly prominent. The family befriended Joseph Diosse, a painter specializing in theater scenery and a former partner of Charles Caïus Rénoux, who had run a diorama in London that closed in May 1851. 1852. Disdéri and Diosse went on to create a 110-meter-long diorama in Brest. In July 1852, on rue du Château, they presented several dioramas, including Switzerland and Midnight Mass at Saint-Sulpice. This ambitious venture lasted barely six months and ended in financial ruin. Diosse later worked for the Brest theater, painting scenery for many years.
Once again, Disdéri faced ruin. His outspoken political views and socialist associations led the police to brand him a dangerous agitator, effectively cutting him off from his family and photographic business in Brest—he would never return. Though Disdéri and his wife were already separated by this time, divorce was legally impossible in France since 1816. It’s also notable that both moved in circles influenced by Saint-Simonian and free-love ideals, which further set them apart from conventional society. Madame Disdéri was not truly alone in Brest.
Adolphe traveled to Nîmes, where he stayed at the Maison de l’Assomption, a school known for its liberal spirit. After experimenting with photographic processes using instant collodion, he returned to Paris and published his first book: Manuel opératoire de photographie sur collodion instantané(Gaudin, 1853). In January 1854, he found financial backing through Michel Chandelier (1813–1871), an artist and friend of Gavarni who had inherited a modest fortune. Gaining his trust, Disdéri established himself at 8 Boulevard des Italiens. On June 3, 1854, an announcement appeared announcing the formation of the company Disdéri et Compagnie, headquartered at 8 Boulevard des Italiens, in a building owned by Robert-Houdin, the famous illusionist whose theater occupied the ground floor. Disdéri then partnered with Édouard Baldus. Thanks to the instant collodion process, clients could enter the studio, pose, and receive their albumen portraits within just a few hours—sometimes the same half-day. 1855. Gradually, the carte de visite portrait became immensely popular. Disdéri rose to national, even international, fame. The salons on Boulevard des Italiens became the most prestigious in Europe. In preparation for the 1855 World’s Fair, his company employed a large staff—77 employees, including Pierre Petit. Some ventures, however, were less successful: the Queen Victoria Album did not sell a single copy, likely because the instant collodion process was still unable to capture movement, such as the dancers in the ballroom at Versailles.
At that time, Le Borda—the name traditionally given to the flagship of the Naval Academy—was the Commerce, a 110-gun ship (1807–1884) of the type bearing the same name. Her construction, ordered on May 14, 1804, began in Toulon in December of that year, the result of a donation from Parisian merchants to the Republic (May 27, 1803). After more than twenty years of service at the Naval Academy, on August 10, 1863, she was renamed Vulcainto serve as the central vessel of the reserve fleet. She was then replaced by the Valmy, a 120-gun ship (1849–1891) originally to be named Formidable but renamed Valmy in 1836. Designed by Leroux, the Valmy was the largest sailing ship ever built in France at the time. Her construction began in Brest on March 1, 1838, and she was launched on September 25, 1847. After a series of sea trials in November 1849, she joined the training squadron. Together with the Jupiter, she made a cruise in July–August 1850 from Naples to Tunis and then to Cherbourg. In 1854–55, she took part in the Crimean War in the Black Sea, notably in the bombardment of Sevastopol (October 17, 1854). Placed in reserve in Brest in January 1856, she remained inactive for a time. On August 18, 1863, she was renamed Borda, and a few months later she replaced the former Commerce de Paris as the flagship of the Naval Academy.
Meanwhile, Disdéri’s Paris partnership went bankrupt, resulting in a brief imprisonment. Shortly thereafter, Elisabeth Francart and her close friend Collet-Corbinière traveled from Brest to help reestablish the business. By October 1857, together with the painter François-Désiré Lebel, they founded a new studio, each contributing a substantial investment. Owing to earlier legal difficulties, financial control was kept carefully out of Adolphe’s hands. This partnership sustained the celebrated Boulevard des Italiens studio for nearly five years, until its premature dissolution in 1862.
Mr and Mrs Disderi are partners again and, on September 19, 1857, Adolphe Disdéri signed an authorization granting his wife the right to practice photography under the name Disdéri. Madame Disdéri would always capitalize on the renown of her professional husband in her advertising. 1859. This was the year of the famous anecdote told by Nadar: “A singularly unexpected and exceptional circumstance (Disdéri must have said ‘exclusive!!!’) came along one day to give the final push to this already unprecedented vogue: Napoleon III, passing in full pomp along the boulevards at the head of the army corps leaving for Italy, stopped short in front of Disdéri’s establishment to have his photograph taken (wasn’t this single trait already more like the model than his photograph itself?). And behind him, the entire army, lined up on the spot, arms at their sides, waited for the photographer to take the picture of the Emperor. At that moment, enthusiasm for Disdéri became delirious. The whole world knew his name and the way to his house.” Following this episode, Disdéri became the official photographer of the imperial family. 1860. Elisabeth Francart took part in refurbishing the Paris studio and was actively present in its daily work. Research by Emiliano Cano-Díaz has uncovered several cartes de visite bearing her name under “Mrs. Disdéri,” as well as a wood engraving published in L’Illustration, depicting her attending to a female client. “Disdéri’s salons are undoubtedly among the most attractive curiosities in Paris. Precious furniture, the costliest tapestries, the most accomplished paintings, and the finest sculpture abound there amidst cascades of gold. It is rich, but it is artistic.” — L’Illustration, 2 June, 1860
1860. Near Brest, in order to give a home to her affection for the professor, Elisabeth Francart purchased, on July 23, 1860, from Joseph-Marie-Dalila Corric, architect and surveyor of Brest, a most exclusive site: the land of Kerangoff in Plouzané, near Fort du Minou, where ferns and windmills grew upon the cliffs. Elisabeth Francart—driven by romanticism, fantasy, and a dreamy spirit—immediately took charge. From 1861, she transformed the modest Kerangoff lodge into the estate’s main house. The adjoining land was laid out as an English-style garden by the horticulturist Hautin. By the seashore, she built a kind of Swiss chalet, where it was said she received her lover, arriving discreetly by sea. The chalet still stands to this day. This “folly” proved costly and required borrowing. Including the initial purchase price of 7,000 francs, together with the construction and landscaping, the total expense far exceeded the means of Madame Disdéri and her companion. After a few years of happy domestic life, the main house was leased to Madame Le Bozec de Kérandraon of Lesneven, and the estate was liquidated by judicial order on July 18, 1868. As for the Kerangoff property—a lasting witness to Elisabeth Francart’s personal history—it was sold that same year to Jean-Marie-Eugène Camescasse, brother of the local deputy. Following the sale, adviser and architect Aristide Vincent wrote to his client: “…I had anticipated spending some time there. I am delighted that we shall return every year with the swallows, and that I will gladly help improve your house, which seemed rather cramped to me, even though I dined there most pleasantly… Despite your opinion, I allow myself to dream of something noble and elegant, fitting the spirit and station of its inhabitants, for this costs little when it comes to dreams. Know that Madame Disdéri was a good adviser when she built all these cottages and spent lavishly for a poor result. The site is charming, which made matters all the better.” The main house, the smaller dwellings, and their foundations remain to this day—as you can see on this aerial view.
1861. Disdéri opened a studio in Saint-Cloud devoted to equestrian photography. That same year, he purchased a splendid Palladian-style villa in Rueil-Malmaison, which he adorned with medallions depicting the founders of photography. The acquisition, however, came at a steep cost, and he was soon unable to maintain it. He also built stables large enough to accommodate several horses and took pride in driving his own carriages — but these ambitions once again led him into bankruptcy. 1862. The people of Brest once more came to his aid. A receipt records the transaction: François Jacobs, property owner in Rueil-Malmaison, acknowledged payment from André-Eugène-Adolphe Disdéri, photographer, residing at 6 Boulevard des Italiens, and from Eugène-René Collet-Corbinière, professor at the Brest Naval Academy, residing at Place du Château in Brest, represented by his son, Georges Collet-Corbinière, notary clerk, residing at 2 Rue de la Monnaie. The amount was 12,000 francs. (August 20, 1862.) In truth, it was Eugène Collet-Corbinière who purchased the house from “Monsieur and Madame Disdéri.” Yet he, too, was unable to keep it, and once again the Brest circle intervened. In 1866, the property was sold at auction to two bankers from Brest, Edmond and Henri Lemonnier, for the sum of 8,500 francs. 1865. In the Brest directory, Elisabeth Francart proudly declared that the “Disdéri House and Company of Paris” were photographers to Their Majesties the Emperor, Prince Napoléon, and Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Maria of Russia.
Should we deduce that Elisabeth Francart could be the sole author of the portrait of Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna of Russia (1819–1876)? Maria Nikolaevna, daughter of Tsar Nicholas I of Russia, became Duchess of Leuchtenberg through her marriage to Maximilian de Beauharnais, 3rd Duke of Leuchtenberg. Thus, by birth she was a Russian Grand Duchess, and by marriage she entered the Leuchtenberg family — a title descending from Eugène de Beauharnais, the adopted son of Napoleon I.
January 19, 1866. An advertisement published in the newspaper L’Océanshows that around 1865 Elisabeth Francart produced a second Album historique entitled Vue du Borda et de ses Annexes, created in collaboration with two of Eugène Collet-Corbinière’s colleagues, the drawing masters aboard the training ship Borda: Auguste Mayer and Prosper Saint-Germain (Delouche, 1980, p. 63). The album met with little success, and no surviving copies have been located. Nor have any photographs signed by Francart depicting the Borda and her auxiliary vessels, Sylphe and Bougainville, been identified — until the present example. Elisabeth Francart and Eugène Collet-Corbinière were by then living in Paris, on the rue des Feuillantines — a noted haunt of Romanticism. She continued her photographic work at rue du Bac until 1872 and died in a hospital in 1878, two years before both her husband and her son. Before leaving Brest, Madame Disdéri sold her studio at 65 rue de Siam to photographer Tuffereau. February 1865. Back in Paris, the celebrated Disdéri studio on the Boulevard des Italiens had passed into the hands of Madame Disdéri’s companion, Eugène-René Collet-Corbinière. That same year, a new partnership was formed between Collet-Corbinière, his son Georges, painter François-Désiré Lebel, merchant Émile Lion, and journalist Théodore Degrave. The enterprise continued under the name Photographie Disdéri, with its head office remaining at 8 Boulevard des Italiens, maintaining its reputation as one of the foremost photographic establishments in Paris. Note. After the arrival of the railroad in Brest on April 26, 1865, the journey to Paris was reduced to only eighteen hours — a dramatic improvement over the former four days by horse-drawn carriage. Sources
ANNEXE Nadar, Disdéri’s contemporary and rival, wrote memorably about him and the carte-de-visite revolution in his memoirs. The following passage, taken from Nadar’s ‘Quand j’étais photographe,’ gives rare insight into both the acclaim and controversy surrounding Disdéri’s career. : « Then, in a decisive move, Disderi appeared with his calling card, offering twelve portraits for around twenty francs, whereas until then people had been paying fifty or a hundred francs for a single portrait. Even outside the world of photography, Disderi left behind memories of the most considerable fortune ever made during what could be called the golden age of photography. In a single year, he earned enough to secure the future of a family, even by today’s standards, and this prosperity seemed inexhaustible and unstoppable. A certain intuitive genius had pushed Disderi, one of the first, toward the door that photography had just opened wide to all those who did not fit into any category. Of obviously very modest origins, deprived of elementary schooling and even basic education, ignorant of even the most common forms of social convention, all the more striking and distinctive in his appearance, personally very unattractive, even repulsive, — but with a real practical intelligence, served by special natural gifts, active and quick as no one else, imperturbable in a faith that doubted nothing and especially not himself, he could just as well, with the same aplomb, the same certainty, the same specific verbosity, and most likely the same success, have manufactured and, above all, sold any other kind of “article” and played to any other audience. One of the vagaries of Parisian life had brought him into contact with the artist Chandelier, Gavarni’s inseparable companion. Chandelier found himself at that very moment inheriting from an uncle, an old country priest but a friend of thrift, who left him eight hundred thousand francs. Although rightly renowned for his mistrust, Chandelier allowed himself to be taken in by the irresistible sales pitch. They formed a partnership and Disderi immediately set to work. But this first attempt ended badly; the judge even had to get involved… Let’s move on. But Disderi was not one to be defeated by misfortune. We do not know or have forgotten whether he tried his luck elsewhere and with someone else until the day he moved to the Boulevard des Italiens, where fortune awaited him. Disderi’s truly extraordinary success was rightly due to his ingenious idea of the carte de visite. His industrial flair had been spot on and perfectly timed. Disderi had created a real fashion that would suddenly take the whole world by storm. What’s more, by overturning the economic proportions that had been established until then, i.e., by giving infinitely more for infinitely less, he definitively popularized photography. Finally, it must be acknowledged that many of these small images, improvised with impressive speed in front of an endless parade of customers, were not lacking in taste or charm. A singularly unexpected and exceptional circumstance (Disderi must have said “exclusive!!!”) came along one day to give the final push to this already unprecedented vogue: Napoleon III, passing in full pomp along the boulevards at the head of the army corps leaving for Italy, stopped short in front of Disderi’s establishment to have his photograph taken (wasn’t this single trait already more like the model than his photograph itself?). — and behind him the entire army, lined up on the spot, arms at their sides, waited for the photographer to take the picture of the emperor. — At that moment, enthusiasm for Disderi became delirious. The whole world knew his name and the way to his house. It would be difficult to estimate the millions that passed through his coffers in those years of abundance, and it was certainly Disderi who knew the least about it. All anyone talked about then was luxury, country houses, and Disderi’s stables (ah, the poor little cavalry of my poor Bissons!). Stunned passersby stopped at the sound of his Russian-style carriages, which he drove himself, for he naturally had a taste for pomp and excessive display—and he must not have doubted for a moment that this triumph of spontaneous blossoming, unprecedented and boundless, would last forever. But that is not how good homes are made, our fathers taught us. There is no treasure that does not run out, and profusion always ends up leaving a void. Disderi’s rise had been so rapid and so high that he was overcome by the dazzling vertigo. Still fascinated by these things, Disderi had long since neglected to follow the progress of photography, to which he owed so much, even though every day brought us something new to learn from it. From then on, the man was lost, like his house. The fall was as rapid as the rise had been. Already his clientele had scattered to other, newer establishments that were more concerned with the dignity of their work and better organized. Disderi had to abandon his house in Paris and sell even his name. Courageously, but in vain, he tried to get back to work here and there, and so many of his former customers were surprised to see that brilliant name reappearing in shops and even stalls in Cauterets, Biarritz, Monaco, etc. But everywhere he failed: the talisman was broken. Fortune is a woman and does not forgive those who miss their chance. »
The images related to Mrs Disderi are not only one but two, the flagships in the port of Brest from Daniel blau catalogue (lot 65) and the Grande Duchesse Maria portrait (lot 510). You can access to the catalogues by clicking here or on the image below.
There will be a three-days viewing exhibition at 41 avenue Montaigne, walking distance from Paris Photo main location, entrance without code, lift on the right under the archway, the exhibition space is on the 5th floor, right-hand door. Tuesday 11 November and Wednesday 12 November, from 10am to 6pm Thursday 13 November by appointment If you would like to pre-order the paper catalogues, and pay with PayPal or prepare a visit or ask questions with an email, please use the address: consigned
La Fotografia è la più bella delle collezioni … Senigallia, città della fotografia, ospitera nuovi spazi dedicato alla ricerca e promozione della fotografia. Atelier 41 si trova 41 via fratelli Bandiera. Senigallia diventerà la Città delle collezioni. Any question : consigned
|
Share 
Tweet 
Share 
Forward 
Serge Plantureux
Photographies
Expert de justice
près la Cour d’Appel de Paris