The Raft of the Medusa

Few paintings in the Louvre are as unforgettable as The Raft of the Medusa, but behind Théodore Géricault's masterpiece lies one of the most horrifying true stories in French history.

In this episode, we uncover the disastrous 1816 voyage of the Méduse, a shipwreck caused by political favoritism, incompetence, and arrogance during the Bourbon Restoration. Stranded on a makeshift raft, 147 people faced starvation, mutiny, murder, and cannibalism in a desperate thirteen-day fight for survival, while the French government tried to bury the scandal.

Discover how the testimony of the survivors inspired the young Géricault to spend months researching every detail, creating a monumental painting that became both a masterpiece of Romantic art and a powerful political statement. From the tragedy at sea to the secrets hidden within the canvas, this is the remarkable story behind one of the Louvre's greatest treasures.

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SPEAKER_00 0:00

Bonjour, bonjour. Welcome to Paris in Blue, Blanc, Rouge with Claudine Hemingway. That is me coming from what's getting to be another hot week in Paris, but it's mostly just in the low 90s. So after what we had a couple weeks ago, it seems like it shouldn't be a problem. Also, I have an AC now. So it is helping a little bit. In fact, last night I turned it off because it was getting so chilly. But we'll see how this week goes. But there's nothing we could do about it. So I wanted to share a story that this isn't going to be the last time I talk about this subject because there's still so much more I want to find and share with you about it. But it is about an event that turned into a massive painting that is in the Louvre. It's one that I absolutely love and I adore just sitting there early in the morning when everybody's racing to the Mona Lisa. I love to just go and sit and just take in all the details in this painting. But it does have a bit of a gruesome part of the story. So just want to warn you in advance. I'm not going to go into too much detail about that part, but you know, it's kind of one of those things once you kind of know what it's about and you say the word, you kind of understand what happened. So I just want to let you know I'm not going to make it squeamish or gross in any ways, but it is something that did happen that was pretty horrible. So I am going to tell you a story today about the raft of the Medusa. Many are familiar with a large painting that hangs in the Samoulian of the Louvre by Theodore Jericho, but did you know it was based on a true story? The Radeau de la Medusa is the raft of the Medusa and it was painted in 1818 when Jericho was just 27 years old. It depicts a story of the French ship, the Medusa, a 40-gun fregate, used during the Napoleonic Wars in 1810. It was going to be used in his escape to America as a decoy, but we know that didn't happen. However, the Medusa would become the very example, shining a light on what was wrong with the restoration of the Bourbons, even as they tried to hide it. It was in their attempt to erase it that would bring the entire affair to the forefront and inspire the young French artist. Theodore Jericho had just returned from Rome in November of 1817 and wanted to make his mark in the Parisian art community. His fellow artists, Jean Antoine Gros and Horace, the son of his mentor, Carl Vernet, were finding their own commissions for large-scale paintings. Jericho wanted something big and the legacy-making theme would fall right into his lap. In 1816, France was trying to move forward and pass the first empire. Napoleon was finally exiled far, far away in Saint Helena and the Bourbon, Louis XVIII returned to the throne once more. In March of 1815, when Napoleon had returned for his 100 days, Louis XVIII had fled Paris, and those who remained close to him and defended him would be rewarded later. Houg de Roy de Chaumore was just one of those men. He was born on December 20, 1763, into a wealthy family. He entered the Navy with the help of high-ranking members and the friends of his father. At the start of the Revolution, he fled France for England and returned only when Louis XVIII came back into power. He was granted a full pardon for his departure from France, and he became a close defender of the king. After Napoleon's abdication on April 6, 1814, the government sought to roll back the clock. The Treaty of Paris was signed on May 30, 1814, and restored France's borders to those of 1792. Territories that had changed hands with the British and Dutch were returned, including the interest in Senegal. Although slavery had been abolished in France on February 4, 1794, Napoleon would reinstate it in the French colonies in 1802. Retaking Senegal from the British and establishing a French colony was one of the top priorities of the king, and he needed trusted individuals to carry out the mission. Which brings us back to our villain, Chamarie. He was chosen by the king on April 22, 1816 to lead the exploration and to establish Senegal with a French governor and community. The expedition was based in Rochefort on the Charon River in the southwest of France, and the voyage was delayed due to weather for two months. Beginning on June 15, 1816, 365 people were loaded into a small boat from the port of Rochefort and ferried out to the Ile d'Ax, the small island Napoleon visited before his exile just a year before in July of 1815. On June 17, 1816, the Medusa left the port of Axe alongside three other ships in the fleet, the Medusa, the largest fregat, the Echo, a Corvette and smaller warship, the Argus, a sailboat, and the Loire that carried supplies. The four ships are filled with everyone you would need to restart a French base. The potential governor Julien Desarie Schmoltz, his wife Rien, and daughter Eliza were on board, as well as doctors, teachers, explorers, engineers, scientists, gardeners, and of course a few bakers. One week into the voyage, a teenager fell off the Medusa and into the sea. The recovery attempt by the captain was so badly handled that the young man died and was lost to the sea. It would be the first but not the last crack in the captain's control. Rumblings on board had already destroyed the confidence of many under his leadership. On July 1st, the four ships started the day together, with the smallest echo the closest. The Medusa was off the coast of Mauritania just afternoon and by nightfall made the tragic mistake of breaking off at the southernmost tip of the peninsula of the Cape Blanco. It's thought that the Governor Schmaltz was anxious to get to Senegal and encourage the captain to speed up. The Echo would remain close to the keep an eye on the Medusa until the poor decision of the captain made it difficult. They knew of the terrain and didn't want to end up with the same fate as the Medusa. At 3 a.m. on July 2nd, the Echo disappeared. A few of the sailors and officers attempted to trick the captain into getting the ship back on course. As the sun rose on July 2nd, the crew began to spot rocks and noticed that the water became clearer and shallower. One even told the captain they had to be near the Argon Reef and Sandbar, but it was quickly ignored. It was also high tide, which could have been the worst luck of all. A storm was rolling in and the waves crashed against the Medusa. At 3 PM, the ship brushed the edge of the sandbar. They managed to quickly navigate away, but it was brief. At 3 15, scrapes, groans, and jolts, then the final blow came and the frigate was lodged into the sandbar. On board it was utter silence. They tried everything, but the combination of the storm, high tide, and an idiot for a captain left the 365 people on board in a panic. The hole was filling with water, and only one option remained. One of the members brought in to build new homes in Senegal was the carpenter Valerie Touche La Villette, who quickly sketched out a plan to build a raft to hold the supplies while the boats would be used for people. Using whatever could be found on board, the masters were moved along with the many of the deck boards. For two days, La Villette and his men built the raft directly into the water. A railing around the massive raft was added to hold supplies, and the deck itself was partially open to the waters with boards haphazardly spaced and water splashing through every few inches. It was nicknamed the machine, and it was a massive undertaking in less than ideal conditions. It measured 65 by 23 feet. It was first loaded with barrels of guns, casts of wine, water, and food, and tied to the raft. Once the first few men climbed on board, the raft quickly sank further into the water. The barrels of food were removed as more men came on board, but the raft continued to sink as deep as four feet while still remaining afloat. The voyage would be short. In a few hours, they should be at the shore and on to a new life. The construction of the raft with its limited supplies also made it very dangerous for the people. The massive crowd had to stand on the boat because it was submerged more than four feet in the water, and if they sat on it, they would drown. On July 5th, as the water filled the hole, the decision was made to abandon the ship quickly. Only six small boats were available, which could only hold half of the crew and reserved mostly for the elite and high ranking officers. The future Governor Smaltz and his small family took one of the boats, which could have helped at least 15 more people. To make matters worse, a second boat was used just for their luggage. Just after 8 a.m., the six boats and large raft pushed off from the ship. Without any steering capabilities, the raft was attached to four of the small boats, but within two hours the upper crust of the boats realized that the raft was slowing them down and cut it loose just six miles from the Medusa. As the sun went down late into the evening, a storm rolled in, and out of the 147 people, 20 died from falling into the oceans. Screams could be heard from the water below. Between the sun beating down on them and drinking the seawater, delirium set in quickly. On July 6th, the second night of being adrift at sea, the panic and fight for power began. The raft had five barrels on board at the start, two of which were filled with wine. Either for survival aboredom, the rafters dipped into the wine. Chaos ensued, and a battle for control between the officers and the men resulted in the death of 65 men, as well as the only woman on board who had broken her leg and was pushed into the sea. Three days before, as a raft was loaded, a case of biscuits was tossed from the Medusa and fell into the sea. Recovered, the flour biscuits inside turned into a salty paste. For the first two days, it was the only food that they had. On the third day, July 7th, a real horror began. Fewer than half of the original 147 passengers remained on board. Starving, the men ate pieces of clothing, leather, and even bits of rope that had been cut during the battle the night before. Two barrels of wine were left, the only remaining source of calories. Now the hardest decision was made. On day three, just over sixty people were left on the raft, many of whom were injured and on the edge of death. The self-appointed leaders of the raft decided that to survive, they would need to consume the unfortunate raft mates. At first, many officers refused to be a part of it, but after another day or so they had no choice if they wanted to survive. Pieces were cut away and left it dry in the sun to make it a bit easier to consume. Jericho captured this moment in a sketch that is held in the Louvre but is not on display. It's hard to imagine that moment and those that followed. I think every one of us would say we would never do that. But in that moment, when your only chance of survival is at stake, it's hard to say. It's a horrific thought at that. As the sun rose on day four, only 30 people remained. The raft continued to float at sea for days. More and more men succumbed to the elements. A brief sign of hope when a school of flying fish landed on the raft, but many used the raw fish as a side dish to get the other source of meat down. On July 12th, 27 men remained. It was a decision that only 15 were in good enough shape to survive a few more days. Between the wine and a few bottles of cognac on hand, they realized that twelve men needed to go. Three sailors and one soldier were given to the job of ending the lives of the remaining men, many of whom were already close to death. In the final days of the ordeal, the fifteen men had become emaciated, were delirious, and were barely holding on. Surviving on the little wine that remained, flesh, one lemon, and three cloves of garlic. On the final morning, a white butterfly flew over the raft and sat on the mast. A few thought about eating the tiny creature, but many saw it as a sign that they were close to land. On the twelfth day, a smaller raft was built and barrel staves were fashioned into oars, but the structure sunk into the ocean. It was the last hope they had. On July 17th, the thirteenth day into the ordeal, with only fifteen men left alive, the sun rose on a perfectly clear day. Meanwhile, the more than 200 people who fled the Medusa in lifeboats were settling in Senegal. Captain Chalmarie had sent the Arcus out to find the raft, but not to rescue the people. He wanted the three crates filled with 90,000 francs of gold and silver coins that had supposedly been put on the raft. Suddenly a ship appeared in the distance. Unsure if it was real or just delirium, they stacked up the remaining barrels, tied cloth around a barrel ring, and waved it in the air, hoping to be spotted. This is the moment that Jericho decided to paint. The Argus had in fact given up its search and changed course to head back to Senegal. Two hours later, the Argus would spot them and head straight for them, and they would be saved. Once upon the Argus, the men were treated and given food, but Dr. Savigny cautioned them to eat only a small amount. A few men gorged on the food and their emaciated bodies couldn't handle it. Of the fifteen found, five died over the next few days, leaving just ten survivors. The raft was found 104 miles from the initial wreck and 32 miles from shore. On July 19th, they arrived at the Port of St. Louis, no doubt happy to see land once again. Governor Schmaltz took the glory of finding the survivors at his direction. Seventeen people had remained aboard the Medusa when it crashed, and twelve survived for 42 days before they were found. They were left with food, water, and shelter from the elements. Two of the raft's survivors play an important part in the story. Alexander Coriard was an engineer and a journalist. He wrote the eyewitness account of the tragedy and published it. That act led to the dismissal from his job as an engineer, prompting him to become a publisher. Dr. Henri Savigny was one of the three who volunteered to take the raft. On his arrival in Paris, he testified at the Ministry of the Navy against the captain. When he co-authored the details account with Coriard, he found instant fame. News traveled much more slowly in those days. At the start of September 1816, the Echo arrived in Paris with Corriard, Savigny, as well as eight other survivors. Corriard and Savigny wrote the definitive count of the horrific event for the Navy. By September 11, 1816, the ordeal appeared in every paper across France, including the acts of cannibalism. However, they barely scraped the surface on what really happened. Champmuret returned to France in February 1817 and was arrested immediately before the War Council on February 25, 1817. The entire affair was discussed behind the locked doors of the king and the government. On May 30, he was found guilty of abandoning the Medusa as well as the raft of 147 people. He should have been given the death penalty, but he was sentenced to three years in prison and stripped of all of his honors. Outraged by how the entire ordeal was handled, Corriard and Sauvigny were up in arms. Out of the shadows would come an unlikely aid. Police Minister Elie de Cazer obtained Sauvigny's report and leaked it to the Journal des Debat, where it appeared on September 13, 1816. I have a link on my website where you could actually read the actual paper, but it's in French. The story captivated all of France, and Coriage and Savigny published the entire account in November of 1817. The young Terrido Jericho, fresh from Rome, was drawn in on every detail. Jericho was a young and very handsome gentleman known for his red curly hairs and fine legs. There's no evidence of this, so hot leg Henry is keeping his title. Attracted to art from a very early age, his father tried to steer him away into a more lucrative career. It would be his uncle Jean-Baptiste Carul and his wife that would help him follow his passions in more ways than one. His uncle married the young and beautiful Alexandrine Modeste de Saint-Martin in 1807. She was 22 and closer in age to her nephew, Jericho, who was 16 at the time. The two became very close friends, and Alexandrine convinced her husband to give the young artist a cover job in the tobacco business, just steps from the Louvre. The two became quite close and involved. Carul purchased the Chateau de Grand Chagnet near Versailles, where Jericho set up a small workshop to paint and spend any free time with his aunt. To help cover his relationship, the artist began dating Madame Montgolfier, the daughter of Joseph, and created the first air balloon that I shared last week in episode 25. I love it when they all tie together. On April 10th, 1812, Jericho's beloved grandmother died, leaving him with a large inheritance, allowing him to return to Paris. He rented an apartment and an atelier to create a bit of distance between himself and his aunt. His first foray into the official Paris salon came in 1812 when the painting, the officer of the chasseur, won him a gold medal. The painting hangs today in the Louvre just across from the Medusa. The relationship with his aunt morphed into a full affair and resulted in a pregnancy upon his return from Rome. His uncle was well aware of the situation and turned his back on his nephew, riding him out of his life. On August 21, 1818, Georges Ippoli was born on the Rue Pavet Saint-Andre des Arts. His birth certificate left his parents identified as unknown. Jericho never saw a son, and little is known, although after the artist's death in 1824, Georges fought to take his father's name. He died on December 31st, 1882, without ever meeting either of his parents. The news of the pregnancy sent Jericho into a frenzy. Without it, we may not have had this stunning painting. He shaved his head, locked himself away in his atelier, and worked around the clock for days without sleep or food. At the beginning of 1818, Jericho contacted the two survivors and authors Henri Sauvigny and Alexandre Coriard, who recalled their harrowing tale in minute detail. Coriard would be a frequent visitor and close friend, advising him on even the smallest of details. The builder Valerie Touche Lavalette joined in and recreated a scale model of the raft and added a few antidotes from the story, but remained mostly silent. With their help, he began sketching and even carving figures and wax to place on the scale model, capturing the moment that had occurred just two hours before they were saved. Coriars, Savigny, and Lavillette served as models for a few of the men huddled under the mast in the final painting. So dedicated to getting every detail correct, Jericho spent months researching every aspect. He traveled to La Harvey, he sketched the sky and the sea and interviewed sailors. To understand what could happen to the human body, he visited the morgue and the hospital, sketching people in stages of death from the moments before and after. On June 28, 1818, Jericho moved to a larger studio to hold his large 16 by 23 foot canvas, purchased on February 24, 1818. The studio was located at 80 Rue de Faubourg de Rouet, now the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and directly across from Elyse Palace. A short walk away, Jericho visited a friend and pathologist who worked at the Hospice Beaujon at 208 Faubourg Saint-Honore. On one visit, he was gifted a severed head that he kept on the roof of the telier and frequently sketched as it decayed. Spending time at the morgue, he sketched with severed arms and legs, many of which he turned into paintings as well. One was on display at the Louvre in 2022 for the Still Life exhibit. I was quite excited to see it up close, only because of how it was tied to the raft, not the subject matter. All of these gruesome details Jericho sketched and painted never actually end up in the painting. When it came time to bring the scene to life, he pivoted to depicting the unwitting sailors as strong, well-built men, not the emaciated struggling to survive men they really were. Within the painting, Jericho created four groups. The lower portion of the raft, which almost spills out the frame, holds six figures in various stages of death. On the left, the older man with a red cloth draped on his head holds his dead son's body at the edge of the raft with a look of total despair. To his right is a torso of a man added at the last minute in one of the only reminders of cannibalism that would occur on the raft. On the right, the body of a man whose leg is trapped beneath the boards hangs into the sea. Just above him is a bloody axe, another grisly reminder. Eugene Delacroix paid a visit to the atelier on the Rue Saint-Henri, and after seeing the piece, he ran through the streets, amazed and inspired. The handsome neck you see on the dead man with his hand draped over the board is Delacroix himself who posed for his friend. Jerico had such a hard time painting the feet of the young dead man on the left, which sits just above the water, that he gave up and covered his feet in socks. In 1830, Delacroix would pay homage to his friend in Liberty Leading the People. You see Jerico's influence in the lower left of the painting on the man that is mostly naked, except for some socks. In the center, the tight group is in a perfect pyramid presentation and looks to be trying to pull themselves up in a last-ditch effort to survive. The group under the mast is a blend of fright and hope. Three of the four figures were the actual survivors of the horrible ordeal. The large painting perfectly captures the fear and urgency of the effort to survive. Upon closer examination, it can invoke a range of emotions. Jericho added 20 figures when in fact there were only 15 historically at this time. In the center of the painting, the men have Discovered a ship, leading her eye to the horizon and pointing it out to the others. At the top of the pyramid, the hero of the tableau is a black man. The tale of Medusa and the machine rocked the monarchy and the government. It took down a captain and a governor and caused more distrust of those in power. While Coriad and Semini wrote about it, it inspired Jericho to create his own painting and revolt, but for a few reasons you may not notice. The voyage to Senegal was about re-establishing France's presence in the country, but it was also about slavery. There was, in fact, a black sailor on the raft, Jean-Charles, but was he the one who reached up on the barrel to signal the ship? We don't know for sure. But Jericho was going to speak out in his own way against slavery and how France continued to take part in the slave trade at the time, and he added three black figures. For each of these three figures, he used Joseph, a stunning model from Santo Domingo who arrived in Paris in 1804. In 2019, Orsay held an exhibit titled Le Model Noir. It was amazing. And I think about this exhibit every single week. Curators researched mini paintings from the 18th and 19th century and gave us names for many of these models that until then were unknown or forgotten. If you're ever in LA, find the stunning portrait of Joseph painted by Jericho at the same time as a raft of the Medusa at the Getty. I'll put a picture on my website. By June 1819, Jericho had moved his painting to the Teatro Italien where he finished his masterpiece in July of 1819. Within a month, it would make its grand debut to the public. Few had seen the painting beyond those who modeled for it, but because of its subject matter, it had already been making waves within the art world. On August 25th, the salon opened in the Louvre and included 1,305 paintings, with more than 110 showcasing historical moments, battles, or figures. Traditionally, the government was the largest purchaser of works of the salon. Historical paintings were their favorites for filling the many offices, palaces, and churches. The annual biannual artistic salon began in the 17th century and were among the few ways for artists to display their work for purchase by the state or wealthy individuals. Beginning with the king's artists, it morphed into jury-selected artists and the famous diversion of the Impressionists. The salon of 1819 was a reflection of the political climate happening in France at the end of the First Empire. It was the largest salon held since the fall of Napoleon. His return and the rise of the Bourbons once again would include many historical paintings. Jericho saw the success his fellow artists had had with the genre and wanted in on his own action. With the large inheritance from his grandmother, he was able to do just that without a commission. To submit the painting to the salon, he renamed it Scene of a Shipwreck to avoid political issues or expulsion from the event. Anyone who saw the painting, as well as it being the largest in the salon, knew exactly which event it had referred to. Hanging high by the western door of the Salon Carré leading to the Grand Gallery, it was hard to miss due to its size. As a few paintings were sold, it was moved to the eye level for the last six weeks of the salon that ended on November 30th, 1819. The painting won Jericho another gold medal but failed to get a coveted sale. Deflated and depressed, he took the painting back to his atelier. At the beginning of the next year, Jericho was contacted by James William Bullock, who requested that the painting be part of his exhibit at the Piccadilly in London. Bullock proposed what proved to be a very lucrative deal in the end, in which Jericho would be compensated with a portion of the ticket sales. Beginning in June of 1820, the painting was seen over the next six months by tens of thousands of people, resulting in a check for 20,000 francs, more than he ever would have made by selling it to the French government. Bullock then took it to Dublin where it was displayed but had less of an impact as many people had already traveled to London to see it the year before. Returning to France, Jericho attempted to sell it a few more times, and the Louvre and government officials continued to turn away. He died at just 32 years old on January 26, 1824, after suffering from a fall from a horse, or probably most likely syphilis. The Louvre, on behalf of the director general, Count Auguste de Forbin, purchased the painting on November 12, 1824 for 6,000 francs, and since then it is hung in the Louvre. It was sadly 10 months after Jericho died. In 1859, due to its fragility, the Louvre commissioned a copy by Pierre Deseret Guimet and Etienne Antoine Roger, which can be seen today in the Picardie Museum in Amiens, which I'm gonna go see soon. Jericho uses substance called bitumen, essentially tar, which made the dark browns and blacks appear even darker. Bitumen never fully dries, so the painting could not be rolled. It would stick to itself and tear. During the evacuation of the Louvre on September 3rd, 1939, during World War II, the large canvas traveled through Versailles on a truck used to move stage scenery. As it went through town, it struck a tram power line, knocking out power to the golden town. The raft was hidden away at first at the Chateau de Versailles and then during the war at the Chateau de Chambord. Since its return in 1945, it has hung on the first floor of the Denon room in the red room of the Salmolien, just a few steps from the Mona Lisa. Look at all the paintings in this room, including Delacroix and the other romantic artists, and see the way they each speak to each other and how they're displayed. You could also visit the tomb of Per Lachet and find a bronze bow relief of the raft done by Antoine Atex, but notice that they cover the naked, knotty parts of the gentleman falling into the water. The painting is also a good test of how you see the world. Which part strikes you the most? Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Do you know the hope and elation of the top, or is it the despair at the lower portion? Either way, it's a masterpiece, and I never get tired of sitting in front of it alone on an early morning before the room is filled. As for those crates filled with gold and silver coins, they've never been found. I'm also in the next, hopefully the next month or so, going to head down to Rochefort, which is where the raft had first or the ship first took off from. And they have a lot of things in their museum dedicated to the Navy there that is has to do with the raft. And years ago, the museum actually had a replica of the raft created. I saw a French documentary about this, and they went through the whole, you know, they had engineers and sculptors and builders, everybody involved in this. It was really fascinating. And they, because there was a drawing made by La Villette that I'll put a picture of it on my website as well. And this drawing, they used that to make an exact replica. And they put it into the water and everything, and it floated, even though it sank a little bit, but it was very, very slippery. And they could see how it would have been very easy to fall. And they noticed that if to have 147 people, which is close to 11 or 12 tons of weight just from people, they would have had to stand. But there was, you know, they didn't have any oars, they didn't have any navigation, they had no maps, there was a compass that was that fell into the water within hours of leaving the Medusa. They had no way to get around. And these men in this documentary actually put kind of a rudder on it to help them steer, but a tugboat pulled them, and that was almost impossible. So to see all of this, to know everything that happened, you know, including the horrible things of cannibalism, but to put yourself in that scene to really think about the horrors of what these people saw. It's tragic. It's just terrible. There was a movie made in France, and I can't find it anywhere online, made in I think it was the 80s. And I haven't been able to find it online, but there was, you know, stage put the stage plays, all of these things, they ended up using Jericho's painting as kind of the example of what this scene would have looked like, even though you know he took a few liberties with it. But you know, as far as a raft, and when you look at it, you have to really get close to it because even though it looks like they're on kind of a small square, you do see to the left, you do see where it actually is much larger. He painted it. When he painted it, he made it look like it was kind of a stormy day. There's a massive wave that looks like it's about ready to crash down on them. But in fact, it was a very clear and sunny day that day. But you know, he had a little bit of drama into the scene. But it is really amazing. They cannot restore it because of the bitumen that is used. We heard that the from the director of the lube two years ago that they were going to restore it last year or do, you know, kind of a spot restoration, but the painting never came down. So they might have found that they actually can't do that. Any restoration in the past has been done, has been done on the frame and the stretching of it. Very little has done been done on the actual painting itself. But this event that happened 210 years ago, basically at this moment, today, 210 years ago was the day they had to decide to survive, they would have to eat their fellow rafters. So horrible, just absolutely horrible. But it does add to the whole story of this painting. And I will put lots of pictures on my website. And I went in the other day just to sit in front of it, take a bunch of painting pictures of it, of the painting. And once I had them on my laptop and you know, edited them and made them lighter, there were so many more details that came out of it that you could really see. So I'll put a bunch of those on my website that you could that you could check out, as well as hopefully get in there and do some videos of it. There's the Louvre also holds two sketches, his first and his second sketch. Both of them. The second sketch is much closer to what you see today. But the first sketch, which is really interesting, the the raft itself is has a little bit of a different perspective. But the the kind of the one of the main figures being the older man holding the body of his son, which is also, I think, the best example of looking at him and looking how Jericho was able to depict somebody that was a that had was had died, because if you just look at the arm of the father against the body of a son and just look at the color of their skin, you could tell, you know, that his son is obviously has died. So it's it's a fantastic painting. You know, a lot of people kind of walk right past it. Is it is also everybody's kind of going to see the Delacroix, Liberty Leading the People, which we'll talk more about at the end of this month, which is of course one of my favorites. I love that, but not as many people stop and look at the Raft of the Medusa, and they should, because it's fantastic. So until next week, I hope you all have a wonderful week. And I'm gonna turn my AC back on so I could get the temperature down a little bit as it has come up. And I will see you next week. If you're coming to Paris, make sure you book a walking tour, reach out, or if you need help planning your trip to Paris, get in touch. And I'm happy to create personal customize plans just for you. Okay, how about this time with just the AC on? Is it too loud? Can you hear me? Is the fan loud? Hello, bonjour, bonjour. They're after the Medusa, blah blah blah blah blah.