72 pages • 2-hour read
Sue PrideauxA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of illness, gender discrimination, child sexual abuse, death, sexual harassment, racism, and sexual content.
Paul Gauguin died in 1903 on Hiva Oa in French Polynesia. When the site of his bamboo and pandanus-leaf hut was cleared in 2000 for a replica, workers discovered a well that he had used to cool drinks, accessible via a rigged line from his window. Inside lay a jar containing four severely deteriorated human teeth. Cambridge’s Human Genome Project confirmed that these were Gauguin’s, and subsequent testing revealed no traces of the metals used to treat syphilis, contradicting the longstanding narrative that he spread the disease throughout the South Seas.
In 2020, Gauguin’s manuscript Avant et après resurfaced after a century through Britain’s Acceptance in Lieu program. The 200-page handwritten work from his final years, now at the Courtauld Institute, functions as both memoir and testament. It reveals his denunciation of colonialism through letters protesting administrative corruption and advocating for Indigenous rights, his belief in gender equality, his admiration for Christ alongside his contempt for organized religion, and various personal anecdotes. A corrupted edition published in 1918 had shaped prior biographical assumptions. Meanwhile, in 2021, the Wildenstein Plattner Institute completed the catalogue raisonné of his 1891-1903 paintings.
Gauguin revolutionized Western art by rejecting Renaissance perspective, realistic color, and proportional scale while incorporating Indigenous subjects. His influence extended through Fauvism, the Nabis, Edward Munch, German Expressionists, and ultimately to Picasso’s exploration of African art, which helped spawn Cubism.
Given all of this, author Sue Prideaux concludes that recent discoveries and contemporary debates warrant a fresh examination of Gauguin’s life.
In 1849, one-year-old Paul Gauguin sailed from Le Havre, France, to Peru with his parents, Clovis and Aline, and his sister, Marie. They fled France as Charles-Louis Napoleon consolidated power. Clovis, an anti-Bonapartist journalist, planned to establish a newspaper in Peru through connections to Simón Bolívar. Aline appeared on government watch lists, having inherited the radical reputation of her mother, Flora Tristan.
Flora Tristan was a pioneering feminist and socialist whose book L’Union ouvrière (1843) preceded Marx’s The Communist Manifesto (1848). Known as “Madame Anger,” she championed workers’ rights and women’s equality despite personal trauma: Her husband, André Chazal, had sexually abused their daughter, Aline, and later shot Flora herself, leaving a bullet permanently lodged near her heart. While he served a 20-year sentence for attempted murder, Flora conducted investigative journalism on social injustices, including child sex trafficking in London. She died at 41 during a speaking tour, her body donated to science. Workers erected a monument in her honor that added “Solidarité” to France’s revolutionary motto of “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité.”
During the voyage to Peru, antagonism developed between Clovis and the ship’s captain, who pursued Aline. At Port Famine in the Straits of Magellan, Clovis experienced a fatal heart attack at 35. The ship departed immediately after his burial.
Arriving in Lima, Aline petitioned her great-uncle Don Pío Tristán-y-Moscoso, whose vast fortune derived from plantations, mines, and guano extraction, all worked by enslaved laborers. Don Pío provided luxurious accommodations but never granted the inheritance. From the age of 18 months to seven and a half, Gauguin lived in palatial circumstances with personal enslaved servants: “It was a life of theatre and of contrasts, of long dark passages bursting into light from clustered constellations of candles in silver candlesticks as high and heavy as a man” (9). He watched his mother adopt the concealing saya y manto form of dress to avoid Don Pío’s advances.
Aline collected Indigenous Moche pottery featuring mythological figures that would profoundly influence Gauguin’s artistic symbolism, particularly the fox warrior, which he would use to represent his alter ego and lustful impulses. When Guillaume Gauguin, Clovis’s father, wrote promising an inheritance, the family returned to France in early 1855. Gauguin retained a lifelong yearning for the “lost beatitude” of life in Peru.
Seven-year-old Gauguin struggled to adjust to gray, rainy Orléans after Peru’s volcanic landscape. The family moved into Guillaume’s riverside house on Quai Neuf. Guillaume died shortly after, dividing his modest estate equally between his grandchildren and his son Isidore, nicknamed “Zizi,” who became co-guardian of Gauguin and the other children. Aline received income rights from the children’s portion and would have received an inheritance from Don Pío. However, following his death, his family refused Aline’s legacy, prompting her to sever all Peruvian connections permanently.
At school, Gauguin struggled learning French, felt isolated, and defiantly declared that he was a “savage” from Peru—a phrase he repeated throughout life when threatened. Zizi, a goldsmith, observed the angry boy throwing dirt in the garden. Inspired by an engraving titled The Merry Wayfarer, nine-year-old Paul ran away with a soil-filled handkerchief before being returned home.
In 1859, Aline moved to Paris with Marie to work as a seamstress, boarding 11-year-old Paul at Le Petit Séminaire de la Chapelle Sainte-Mesmin under Zizi’s supervision. The school’s director, progressive Bishop Félix Dupanloup, revolutionized education by rejecting rote learning in favor of critical inquiry. A scientist-churchman reconciling evolution with faith, he taught classical texts directly rather than through biblical translations, giving Gauguin extensive knowledge of Greek and Roman literature.
Gauguin found the constant prayers oppressive and disliked the semper tres rule requiring three students together to prevent subversion. However, Dupanloup instilled lifelong skepticism toward established authority and empirical questioning of assumptions. The bishop’s catechism also posed existential questions that Gauguin would use 32 years later as the title of his monumental painting, still seeking answers.
In 1862, Aline brought 14-year-old Gauguin to join her and Marie in Second Empire Paris, where Louis Napoleon was transforming the city through administrative official Georges-Eugène Haussmann’s radical reconstruction. The massive displacement created social upheaval, with sex workers flooding neighborhoods considered “respectable.” Édouard Manet’s Olympia (1863) scandalized society by placing a sex worker in the classical Venus pose, exposing the era’s hypocrisy. The painting held lifelong significance for Gauguin, who later created his own Polynesian Venuses, challenging white cultural assumptions.
Aline struggled as a single seamstress until financier Gustave Arosa became her protector. His family fortune came from Peruvian guano imports. Married with daughters, Arosa worked at the Bourse, the Paris stock exchange, and collected avant-garde art—16 Delacroix, nine Corot, seven Courbet, plus works from the Barbizon School, known for its pastoral scenes of peasant life. Fascinated by both Aline and her pre-Columbian collection, he built the largest pre-Hispanic American collection in Paris. He established Aline’s dressmaking shop in the fashionable Chaussée-d’Antin neighborhood near the studio of the celebrity photographer Nadar.
Aline’s workroom sparked Gauguin’s lifelong engagement with fabrics and clothing as narrative elements. However, teenage Gauguin disdained materialistic Paris, calling it the “Kingdom of Gold” (35). Feeling alienated, he retreated into his “savage” from Peru persona and behaved badly. Aline’s 1865 will appointed Arosa his guardian and expressed frustration with his behavior.
Despite exposure to Arosa’s magnificent collection, Gauguin showed no artistic interest publicly. When pushed toward banking, he insisted on going to sea. After two failed years at the Loriol naval preparatory school—where he excelled only at fencing—he joined the merchant marine at 17 in December 1865. Small but growing stronger, with “watchful” hazel-green eyes and an aquiline nose, he sought escape.
On his first voyage aboard the Luzitano to Rio de Janeiro, Gauguin delivered a package to Madame Aimée, a 30-year-old actress who became his lover. The return voyage brought another affair with a Prussian woman, to whom he dishonestly gave a brothel address. Reassigned to the Chili, he retraced his infant journey around South America but made no contact with Peruvian relatives. First visits to Tahiti and India left little impression; he later described these years as intellectually dormant, characterized mainly by physical development and the “coarseness” of his surroundings.
In January 1868, he transferred to the French navy aboard the Jérôme-Napoléon, the yacht of Prince Jérôme Napoleon (nicknamed Plon-Plon), spending two years on quasi-scientific cruises before war erupted. Meanwhile, Aline had died in Saint-Cloud on July 2, 1867, at 42. Arosa evacuated his family, including Marie, to the Channel Islands during the war.
Released from service in April 1871, Gauguin found Saint-Cloud devastated and his mother’s Peruvian collection destroyed. Arosa’s house was damaged, but his art collection and Flora Tristan’s books survived. Arosa welcomed Gauguin, secured him a position as a futures broker at Bertin, and found him an apartment. Now 22, Gauguin excelled at the work, his market intuition earning him promotion to the Bourse floor. Meanwhile, he maintained his private, intimidating reputation as a “formidable swordsman.”
Living independently, he surrounded himself with handmade objects and began painting cautiously around 1872-1874, encouraged by colleague Émile Schuffenecker. His first major work, Working the Land (1873), showed Corot’s influence. At Arosa’s home, he absorbed serious art discussions and sketched with Arosa’s daughter, Marguerite, who studied under painter Camille Pissarro.
In November 1872, Gauguin encountered Mette Gad, a tall Danish woman with independent views, at a small restaurant. Former governess to future Danish Prime Minister Jacob Estrup’s family, she had come to Paris to practice French. Her fearlessness and directness—qualities reminiscent of Aline and Flora—attracted him immediately. After six weeks, they became engaged, spending a joyous period in the Arosas’ circle attending costume balls and picnics. They married on November 22, 1873, in civil and Lutheran ceremonies.
The Preface establishes Sue Prideaux’s revisionist intent. It opens with the discovery of Gauguin’s teeth—which discredited the myth of his syphilis—and the recovery of his uncensored manuscript, Avant et après. These pieces of evidence function as metonymy for all the debunking that follows and thus establish the biography’s interest in the opposition between truth and myth. Prideaux further clarifies the purpose of this reexamination when she states an intent “not to condemn, not to excuse, but simply to shed new light on the man and the myth” (xiv). This framing promises objectivity in challenging long-held assumptions about Gauguin’s character, motivations, and colonial entanglements and introduces the theme of Artistic Myth Versus Historical Reality.
Prideaux suggests that Gauguin’s core identity was constructed around the duality of the “savage” and the “civilized.” Echoing Gauguin’s own descriptions, she presents his early childhood in Peru as a formative period of sensory freedom and luxury, in contrast to a restrictive and gray Orléans. This juxtaposition establishes a central conflict that would inform Gauguin’s later experiences of Encountering and Responding to Colonial Reality. His declaration, “I am a savage from Peru” (18), reflects a form of romantic racism popularized by the philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau and conflates the identities of colonizer and colonized. Nevertheless, it represents his rejection of European “civilization” in favor of a self-fashioned identity rooted in Gauguin’s understanding of Peru. Prideaux further demonstrates how this identity was linked to his mother’s collection of Moche pottery; the fox warrior figure, in particular, became a personal symbol for what the text calls his “Dionysian impulse,” connecting the pre-Columbian artifacts of his youth to the instinctual themes in his art.
Prideaux traces Gauguin’s rebellious nature to two main sources, the first of which is the radical political legacy of his maternal line. The biography details the activism and suffering of his grandmother, Flora Tristan, establishing an ancestral precedent for anti-authoritarianism that Gauguin himself noted: “Gauguin credited his grandmother Flora Tristan not only for his own lifelong readiness to battle for the underdog, but also for his talent as a painter” (2). Prideaux’s account of Gauguin’s family history thus frames his later political activities in Polynesia as a continuation of a tradition. It is significant, too, that this passage implicitly associates Gauguin’s radicalism and his art through the iconoclastic figure of his grandmother: Prideaux portrays the women in Gauguin’s early life as powerful, independent figures who shaped his worldview and established an archetype in both his personal and artistic lives. Like Flora, his mother, Aline, is depicted as a self-determined individual who defied social constraints. This pattern continued with his wife, Mette Gad, whom he valued for her fearlessness, directness, and rejection of Parisian conventions. Prideaux’s emphasis on Gauguin’s attraction to strong, non-conformist women provides context for his later relationships and his artistic representations of the female form, suggesting that his ideals were connected to a specific type of female autonomy.
Gauguin’s radicalism was reinforced by his education under Bishop Félix Dupanloup, who instilled a habit of critical inquiry, teaching Gauguin to question established authority—a principle central to his artistic and personal philosophy. Indeed, the biography traces the origin of one of Gauguin’s major artistic statements to the existential questions posed during his adolescence. Dupanloup’s catechism posed the questions, “Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?” (24). The text identifies these as the title for Gauguin’s 1897 painting, drawing a direct line from his intellectual formation to his art. This connection suggests that his work was a form of philosophical inquiry, laying the groundwork for Prideaux’s later exploration of Art as Spiritual Synthesis. This framing presents his later move to Polynesia as a search for answers to fundamental questions first encountered in his youth.



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