L a - b e a u t é - s a u v e r a - l e - m o n d e ~ D o s t o ï e v s k i

L a - b e a u t é - s a u v e r a - l e - m o n d e  ~  D o s t o ï e v s k i



Showing posts with label Louis-Philippe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louis-Philippe. Show all posts

Sunday, March 1, 2020

The second son - portraits of Louis d'Orléans, duc de Nemours


Attributed to Léon Jan van Ysendyck, 1835.
By Michel Martin Drolling. This is usually dated 1835 on the internet, but I think it more likely 1825, when he would have been eleven.
From the Album du Bal costumé donnée par S.A.R. Madame, Duchesse de Berry le 2 mars 1829 aux appartements des Enfants de France aux Tuileries,
colored lithograph after Eugéne Lami, 1829.
Louis-Philippe, duc d'Orléans en uniforme de colonel-général des Hussards, et de ses fils le duc de Chartres et le duc de Nemours, by Louis Hersent, circa 1830.
Le duc de Nemours et le maréchal Gérard dans la tranchée de la citadelle d'Anvers, décembre 1832, by Victor-Amédée Faure, 1837.
The artist, Faure, was the brother of my wife's great-great-great-great-grandfather.
Le roi Louis-Philippe entouré de ses cinq fils sortant par la grille d'honneur du château de Versailles après avoir passé une revue militaire 
dans les cours, 10 juin 1837, by Horace Vernet, 1848. Left to right: François, prince de Joinville; Antoine, duc de Montpensier; Ferdinand-
Philippe, duc d'Orléans; Louis-Philippe; Louis, duc de Nemours; Henri, duc d'Aumale.
By Franz Xaver Winterhalter, 1939.
Miniature by Sir William Ross, 1840. 
Marriage of the duc and duchesse de Nemours in the chapel of the château de Saint-Cloud, 27 April 1840, by Félix-Henri-Emmanuel Philippoteaux, 1847.
The couple surrounded by his parents and family, including Léopold I, King of the Belgians; he was married to Louise d'Orléans, eldest daughter of Louis-Philippe.
By Franz Xaver Winterhalter, 1843.
 In a costume worn to a ball at Buckingham Palace, 6 June 1845, watercolor by Eugéne Lami, 1845.
1870.
Circa 1880s.
Circa 1890s.

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Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d'Orléans, duc de Nemours (25 October 1814, Paris – 26 June 1896, Versailles), second son of Louis-Philippe, King of the French, and his wife Marie-Amélie de Bourbon-Siciles. Born at the Palais Royal during the first year of the Bourbon Restoration, at the age of twelve he was nominated colonel of the first regiment of chasseurs. And after his father had assumed the throne, in 1830 - only sixteen - he was made a chevalier of the Ordre du Saint-Esprit and entered the Chambre des Pairs. The following year he was nominated to become the first king of the Belgians, a prize which would go to his brother-in-law Leopold, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. He fought in Algeria on three separate occasions - 1836, 1837, 1841 - as a commander during the latter two. He also made official visits to other royal courts - particularly that of Great Britain - during the 1830s and '40s. In 1840, he married Victoire of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha - niece of Léopold, King of the Belgians, first cousin of both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert - at the château de Saint-Cloud. They would have four children. After the revolution of 1848, and his father's abdication, he joined the extended Orléans family in England. His great aim in the first decade of exile - especially after the death of his father in 1850 - was to broker a reconciliation between the two branches of the House of Bourbon, something he saw as necessary if there were to be any hope of restoring a French monarchy. Negotiations continued until 1857, but were ultimately fruitless. In that same year, his wife died after giving birth to their fourth child; her husband never remarried. In 1871, after the fall of the Second Empire, the exile imposed on the french princes was lifted and his rank in the army was restored. After his retirement, he continued to act as president of the Red Cross until 1886, when the government imposed new restrictions on the princes of the blood and he withdrew from Parisian society. He died ten years later at the age of eighty-one, having outlived his wife, a daughter, and almost all of his siblings. He was interred in the necropolis of the Orléans family, the Chapelle royale de Dreux.



Sunday, December 2, 2018

Les Marches disparues - the lost Escalier des Ambassadeurs at Versailles


A model reconstruction of the staircase.

The palace of Versailles, inarguably the most famous royal residence in the world, conspicuously lacks one of the most important architectural features of most palaces, "great homes", or pre-modern ceremonial public buildings: a grand staircase. The lavish ascent in such buildings that leads one from the ground floor to the impressive public spaces - salons, dining rooms, ballrooms, etc. - on the piano nobile, what are often termed the "state rooms". It's a very odd deficit, but this glaring absence wasn't always the case. As Louis XIV began the transformations of his father's hunting lodge, a project that would continue all the way up until the Revolution - and even after - a monumental staircase had certainly always been integral to the plan. Conceived by Louis Le Vau in 1668, the Grand Escalier or Escalier des Ambassadeurs was built to the designs of architect François d'Orbay and painter Charles Le Brun from 1672 to 1679. 


Entered through a vestibule on the north side of the cour royale, the impressive space - taking up the full height of the building and top-lit by a rare-at-the-time large glass skylight - was decorated with red, green, white, and gray French marble, gilt bronze, and trompe-l'œil frescoes. Up the first flight of stairs, in a niche on the landing, was a fountain featuring an antique sculptural group, a gift from the Pope. Above this was a bust of Louis XIV, sculpted in 1665-66 by Jean Varin (Warin), the white marble dazzling in the midst of the rich polychrome decoration. (The bust was replaced in 1703 by another of the king, a work by Antoine Coysevox created 1678-1681.) The two flights of stairs arising from the landing led to two adjacent state rooms; from one side one entered the Salon de Diane, and from the other, the Salon de Venus.

The vestibule.
The view looking back toward the vestibule and, beyond, to the cour royale.
(The engraving must have been made after 1703, when Varin's bust of the King has been replaced with that of Coysevox.)
The fountain group on the landing.
The ceiling. The blank space in the center signifies the location of the large skylight.
The arrangement of the polychrome marble floors in the main space, as well as the vestibule and the flanking loggias.

This remarkable ensemble lasted exactly seventy-three years. Over time, there proved less and less use for the vast and showy space, and more and more it was used for other purposes. In the later years of Louis XIV's reign, concerts were sometimes held here. During that of Louis XV - who didn't at all enjoy the very public display that his great-grandfather had - it was fitted up as a theater for the marquise de Pompadour. And then, only a few year later, in 1752, it was completely destroyed to make space for new rooms for the King's daughters, Mesdames. Eighty-five years after that, in 1837, when Louis-Philippe undertook his transformation - most of it lamentable - of Versailles' noble fabric, he had inserted another staircase - little more than serviceable - into a fraction of the space that originally accommodated the Escalier des Ambassadeurs. 

Varin's bust of Louis XIV, 1665-66.
Coysevox' bust of the King, 1678-81.

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Though this glamorous ascent only existed for less than three-quarters of a century, the memory of it proved quite influential in the following centuries. The particular arrangement of the staircase and its polychrome marble décor inspired many variations on the original. One of the best known was ordered by King Ludwig II of Bavaria for Schloss Herrenchiemsee, his truncated replica of Versailles on the island of Herreninsel. The coloration of the decoration is much brighter than that of its inspiration, as the space was primarily designed to be viewed at night; the eccentric King mostly slept during the day, and he constantly pestered his architects and decorators to make the colors in all his fantasy castles brighter, more saturated, the better to be seen by candlelight.


In 1892 a fire ravaged the historic Palais d'Egmont, home of the duc d'Arenberg, in Brussels. When the destroyed right wing was rebuilt from 1906 to 1910, a grand staircase inspired by the one formerly at Versailles was added. Only a few years later, at the end of World War I, the building was sold to the city of Brussels, and is still used for international meetings and other high-profile diplomatic events.


And then there was the Palais Rose on the Avenue Foch in Paris, built between 1896 and 1902, the conjuring of the flamboyant and exacting comte Boni de Castellane, bankrolled by his wife, American railroad heiress Anna Gould. The exterior directly inspired by the Grand Trianon at Versailles - pink marble pilasters and all - the centerpiece of its interior was certainly the lavish homage to the Escalier des Ambassadeurs. But only four years after the shockingly expensive building's inauguration, alarmed at how her husband was rapidly burning through her family's money, Anna Gould divorced him. She went on to marry his cousin, the duc de Sagan, two years later, while Castellane eventually went on to deal in antiques. The Palais Rose, never entirely finished, was used by various people for various purposes over the years. When Anna Gould died in 1961, her heirs put the building up for sale. After various unsuccessful schemes were put forward to save the building, the furnishings and precious materials were removed and sold off, and the remaining structure was demolished in 1969.


*

The legendary staircase showed up in other places, as well. Réception du Grand Condé par Louis XIV - Versailles, 1674, by Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1878.
Gérôme set his grand "history painting" in the vanished space. While his composition gives the impression of a general accuracy...
... on closer inspection it becomes very apparent that he took many liberties with the well-documented décor...
... changing the colors of the marble, etc.; what is generously referred to as "artistic license".
(The clothes and hairstyles are also heavily influenced by a nineteenth-century sensibility. This looks more like a scene in the theater than anything else.)



Friday, January 5, 2018

Louise, Queen of the Belgians - two miniatures by Sir William Ross.



Louise d'Orléans (Louise-Marie Thérèse Charlotte Isabelle; 3 April 1812, Palermo – 11 October 1850, Ostend), French princess and first Queen of the Belgians as the second wife of King Léopold I. The eldest daughter of the future Louis-Philippe I, King of the French and his wife Marie-Amélie de Bourbon-Siciles, she married the King of the Belgians at the Château de Compiègne in 1832; she was twenty, he was twenty-two years her senior. Since Léopold was a Protestant, there were two wedding ceremonies, Catholic and Calvinist.

1840. This is actually a reduced copy by Magdalena Ross, younger sister of Sir William, made for Queen Victoria.

Léopold's first wife, Princess Charlotte of Wales, had died in 1817 from complications a day after the birth of a stillborn son; he was said to have never quite recovered from the loss. Although never faithful to his second wife, Léopold respected her and the marriage was a harmonious one. Louise was of a shy nature and was never comfortable in her public role, but she was popular with the Belgian court due to her kindness and generosity.

Engraving of Ross' three-quarter length miniature, the Queen posed in the garden at Laeken. I believe the original is now in a private collection.

Léopold was the uncle to both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert - who were, of course, first cousins - and the Belgian couple was very close to their British relations. Louise's family was as well; Queen Victoria was welcoming and most supportive when, after the revolution of 1848, the Orléans royals fled to England.

1846.

The royal couple had four children, including the infamous King Léopold II, the scourge of the Congo, and the tragic Charlotte, known to history as Empress Carlota of Mexico. Queen Louise died of tuberculosis at Ostend at the age of only thirty-eight.


***

The Death of Queen Louise-Marie, by Jozef Meganck, circa 1850.

Her final letter to her husband, written not long before her death:

Dear, dear friend,


This will shall be given to you when I shall be no longer, when my heart, this heart which will never have beaten except for you, shall have ceased to beat, when my eyes, which so loved to contemplate you, will have been closed by death, and my soul alone shall be able to watch over you, when, finally, I shall have no more hope of seeing you again, except in that unknown world, the object of your concerns and your wishes, where, I hope, God will grant us the grace of being eternally reunited. May you find, in the expression of my last wishes, and be able to guess, beyond words, a meagre part of the affection and the gratitude I feel towards you, and which no human language will ever be able to express. May God take charge of the debt of my gratitude and thank you for your kindness towards me, by blessing you and protecting you in all things as my heart desires and as I ask Him without ceasing. May you be happy that I have been happy because of you and close to you. May you be loved, appreciated, cherished, admired, I was almost going to say adored, by many, as you have been by me. May your children be always for you a source of joy and consolation. May your death be sweet like that of the just man and your last moments made beautiful by the memory of all the good you have done to me and to others. May you, in eternity, enjoy that immaterial happiness, without limits, for which your soul, more than any other, was created, and may I be able to serve you, you and those you have loved, or, at least, see you from afar in that blessed eternity and have the certitude of your happiness, even without sharing it. These, dear friend, are my last and dearest wishes, for there is not a beat of my heart nor a thought of my soul which is not yours and for you. My affection for you, that affection which was, I can say, the life of my life, the motive and the essence of my existence here below, must also, I sense, be immortal, like the soul God gave me to adore Him, to serve Him, to pray Him and to appreciate His benefits and must, like it, survive this body of mud. Whatever the moment when almighty God may call me to Him, and whatever anguish, which only the thought of being separated from you may cause me to feel, I can only bless His name, adore His decrees, submit myself to them and thank Him for the happiness, so great and so little made for this earth, which He granted me by uniting me to you. And whether my life is long or short, I will always have lived long enough if I was at all good for you, even if only for an instant. 


The tomb of Léopold and Louise in the royal crypt which is situated in the church of Notre-Dame de Laeken.
The church, near the royal family's official residence outside of Brussles, the Château de Laeken, was built in memory of Queen Louise.



Sunday, October 8, 2017

People in rooms II


Otto Beit in his study in Belgrave Square, Sir William Orpen, 1913.
Johannes Westrik and his family, by Tibout Regters, 1762.
The lady on the right has her knitting and dainty ball of yarn.
La mort du général Moreau, by Auguste Couder, 1814.
Muerte de don Alfonso XII (El último beso), by Juan Antonio Benlliure y Gil, 1887.
The King of Spain died of tuberculosis at the age of twenty-seven in 1885. Here he is surrounded by his widow, Queen Maria Christina, and
their two daughters, Infanta María de las Mercedes, Princess of Asturias, and Infanta María Teresa; the Queen was pregnant with a son,
Alfonso XIII, who would be born a king six months later and reign until going into exile at the start of the Spanish Civil War.
The Villers Family, by Jean-Bernard Duvivier, 1790.
The family's attire and their home's furnishings are in the very height of fashion.
The family of King Louis-Philippe, French School, circa 1835.
The figures look quite waxen, but the satin drapery is marvelous.
King Gustav III of Sweden visiting the Royal Academy of Arts, by Elias Martin, 1782.
Every face is a portrait. (Save the model's, I presume.)
Théatre à Paris, by Adolph von Menzel, 1854.
The lady in the box above with her opera glasses; you'd think her proximity to the stage would make them rather unnecessary.
Domestic interior, German School, circa 1775-80.
The details in this painting are wonderful; among the books, candlesticks, and urn on top of the secrétaire, is a half-empty bottle of wine.
Barely noticeable is the long length of thread or yarn, looping from the hands of the standing woman to the dainty implement on the table.