The Artwork of Versailles

A young Marie Antoinette. By Jean-Baptiste Charpentier le Vieux. Currently hanging in the second antechamber of the Dauphin.

I was going to write a blog post based on the pictures I’d taken of various artwork at the Chateau de Versailles. This was meant to complement the other two posts I’ve created to share the pictures I took at the palace.

However.

I stumbled upon Google Earth Project’s collection of Versailles’ art and was shamed into submission. Google has officially taken over the world. I’m aware this (meaning Google Art not Google world dominance, which is old news) is not something brand new, which is comforting since the end of the Mayan calendar is near. (This whole Google Art Project makes me fear that the end of the Mayan calendar will lead directly into the beginning of the Age of Google. A Google-apocalypse.)

Too bad I didn’t cotton on to the Google Art Project earlier. Everyone from the National Ballet of Canada to the Latvian National Museum of Art are part of this amazing effort.

Here’s the link to the collection of the Chateau de Versailles: http://www.googleartproject.com/collection/palace-of-versailles/

And here, you can do a walk-through of the palace: http://www.googleartproject.com/collection/palace-of-versailles/museumview/

The entirety of the collection is, naturally, worth a look. You can click on the pictures to zoom in, and click details to get some in-depth information about each artwork. Many of them also have educational videos included.

I admit to being most interested in the portraits, especially the ones of people I don’t know well, such as Louis de France, Duke of Burgundy or Maria Leszczinska. But it’s good to see better-known portraits like this one of Louis XIV, or this one of Marie Antoinette and her family.

Read more . . .

Versailles–the Details

To continue the theme of images from Versailles, I have brought out some images of the details of Versailles. These are bits and pieces of the palace on a more human scale. I may at some point get a chance to pinpoint where each photo is from. Until then, enjoy them for what they are!

Boiseries

Boiseries are highly-decorate wall panels, common in 18th-century decor. They were often white with gilt, but of course the design was entirely contingent on the whims of personal tastes. Rooms at the time were designed as a whole, and to-order. Furniture, upholstery, mirrors, molding–it was all custom-made for the room it was put into. Below are some examples of boiseries in Versailles. I was struck by the intricate beauty of the designs. After so many centuries they have a “shabby chic” appeal–just enough age to show character.

Ceilings

If you ever go to Versailles, don’t forget to look up. All the ceilings are painted–every damn inch of them. The style is decidedly rococo, of the time of Louis XIV. It’s all allegorical, and themed. The state apartments, such as the Salon de Mars and the Salon d’Hercule, are painted accordingly with images of their eponymous Greek gods. Everything that isn’t painted is gilded. It makes for a spectacular–but to my eyes, rather gaudy–display. The idea, of course, was to make a statement. These were public rooms. It’s no mistake that the king appears among the gods.

Furniture and Doorways

Of course, no one really lived in the state apartments; they were for display purposes, mostly.  Even the public rooms, however, were part of a large, working household. The more intimate sections of the palace, like the apartments of the Dauphin and Dauphine (in this case referring to Louis XVI’s parents, who died before becoming king and queen) or the apartments of Mesdames Tantes (Louis XVI’s maiden aunts), give a better idea of how life was actually lived. Below are some pictures. The two pictures on the bottom left are from the Queen’s Bedroom. On the left is an open door, through which Marie-Antoinette escaped when the palace was attacked. On the right, if you look closely you can see a doorway which led into the more private rooms beyond.

The Beauty of Versailles

I have had the good fortune to travel a bit in my life. I have been all around the United States–which is an entire world of possibilities in and of itself–and to Europe three times. On two occasions, I had the great pleasure of visiting the Chateau de Versailles. Most people think exclusively of the palace when they hear the name Versailles, but it’s actually a town as well as a palace. The chateau was a small hunting lodge before Louis XIV decided to make it his primary home, his showpiece, his stage, and the center of power. Nobles flocked here to vie for the honor of handing the king his shirt (it kept them busy and from causing trouble). The palace remained the center of power and government until the French Revolution. Indeed, the customs and etiquette that the Sun King imposed had hardly changed on the day Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette left the palace for the final time.

But above all, the Chateau de Versailles is a work of immense architectural and landscape beauty. It has been maintained in the 17^th– and 18^th-century traditions it was built in. Roaming through the palace, even while surrounded by fellow tourists, one gets a real taste for how the palace must have felt two hundred fifty years ago. In fact, the crowds of sight-seers are period-appropriate, though there were fewer digital cameras and blue jeans in the 1700s. Anyone who was decently dressed was admitted to the palace and could freely roam the public rooms (the Hall of Mirrors, the Salon d’Hercule, etc). They didn’t necessarily have access to the monarchs, but they could see the king and/or queen pass by.

Since I’m sure the readers of this blog would be interested in the photos, I’ve included some beauty shots of Versailles below. I will add more posts later with images of the details of Versailles and the artwork of Versailles.

On a related programming note: I will attempt to update this blog more regularly, but at the moment I’m pretty well wrapped up in my current research project (the Antebellum South). If I go off on a tangent now and then, please forgive me and enjoy it for what it’s worth!

The Splendor of Painting on Porcelain (Chateau de Versailles)

The Chateau de Versailles is hosting what sounds to be a fantastic exhibition of painting on porcelain. Good porcelain in the 18th century was painted by hand, often with idealized, almost saccharine scenes like something from Watteau (which isn’t to denigrate either the porcelain or Watteau). Young women in Europe and the American colonies would often paint porcelain themselves as a folk art. Many were extremely talented artists, though of course there were professionals who painted porcelain as well.

Versailles was filled with various types of porcelain, from teapots to chamber pots (legend has it that there was a chamber pot with Ben Franklin’s face painted on the bottom!). This particular exhibition is of the porcelain of Charles Nicolas Dodin, whose work came from the Vincennes-Sèvres factory. Sèvres porcelain was well-known and sought after in its day. It was considered the height of good (and expensive) taste. Today, I’m sure it’s equally as impressive.

If you hurry–and I mean hurry–you can see the exhibition at the Chateaus de Versailles. It’s only on until September 9th (see what I mean about hurrying?).

Here is a link to the page on the Chateau’s official site:

http://en.chateauversailles.fr/news-/events/expositions/splendeur-de-la-peinture-sur-porcelaine-en

Location, Location, Location

You might be surprised that the setting for the Affair of the Necklace was not just Versailles, nor even just Paris. In fact, the setting wasn’t even restricted to France. To understand what occurred in 1784-6, we have to look at what happened before and afterwards. This means going from the town of Fontette to Brussels to London.

Fontette and Bar-sur-Aube: It was in the small town of Fontette, France, in the Aube department in the Champagne-Ardenne region, that Jeanne de Valois was born in 1756 to the last scion of a bastard line of the royal Valois family–and his wife, a former servant girl. About 15 miles away is the town of Bar-sur-Aube, which was a much larger town and the home of Jacques Claude Beugnot, who knew Jeanne longer than almost anyone else. It was in the dilapidated château de Fontette that Jeanne grew up in poverty. When she was still young, she was, according to her own tale, taken to Paris with her siblings by her parents. She returned to the region on occasion, to Bar-sur-Aube. It was here that she truly met Beugnot, when both were young adults. It’s possible he had been aware of Jeanne and her family as a child. Later, Jeanne would go to Paris and Versailles in an attempt to make good on the famous Valois name. She returned in triumph to Bar-sur-Aube after defrauding Cardinal Rohan out of a significant amount of money. It was here that she was later arrested for the theft of the Diamond Necklace (actually, she was told she was being “escorted” to Paris, but of course she was escorted right to the Bastille). This sleepy little town was the birthplace of one of the most famous ladies of her day.

Strasbourg and Saverne: Located in the long-disputed Alsace region in France, Saverne was the familial home of the Rohans. Cardinal Prince Louis de Rohan lived in the Château de Rohan there, but the nearby and larger town of Strasbourg was a common stomping ground. It was here in 1770  in Strasbourg that Marie Antoinette was first welcomed into France as the young bride of the dauphin Louis Auguste. She was greeted at the cathedral by none other than Cardinal (then bishop) Prince Rohan himself. He conducted mass for her benefit. Many years later, another lady, the Marquise de Boullainvilliers, arrived in Saverne to visit the Cardinal (and stopped along the way in nearby Strasbourg to visit the mystic/confidence man Count Cagliostro, who became a confidante of Rohan and later moved into Rohan’s palace in Saverne). In the Marquise’s wake came a young Jeanne de La Motte-Valois and her husband. Jeanne was the Marquise’s ward; her husband had just been discharged from his garrison at Luneville, and the couple were apparently looking to get some help from the Marquise. It was here that Jeanne first met the Cardinal who she would, later, use as part of her plot to steal the Diamond Necklace. This is where the most important meetings of the Affair took place. This is where the paths of the major players crossed. It was only a few years later, in 1784-6 that these connections would be used as part of a massive theft.

The Rohan family Palace in Saverne.

Versailles: The town of Versailles is not the same as the palace of Versailles–though usually “Versailles” refers to the palace. In the late 18th century, before the Revolution, the palace was the center of power. Most courtiers were housed in the vast palace complex, but some people lived outside the palace gates in the town. Jeanne de La Motte-Valois (self-styled “Comtesse” de La Motte) had a house outside the palace, according to Nicole d’Oliva, the prostitute hired by the Comtesse to play the part of the Queen as part of a hoax. This house was apparently on the Place Dauphine, a small square off of the southeast corner of the Palace. For some time, this is where the Comtesse lived as she weaseled her way into the confidence of credulous courtiers…….

Acquisitions of the Palace of Versailles

I found this on the official site of the Chateau de Versailles, and was interested in the items recently acquired by the palace.

Click here to get more info on the acquisitions and see pictures.

As the page will probably be updated in the future, I’m going to quote a few of the items I found most interesting.

These elegant folding stools form part of a series of sixty-four ordered for the Games Room of Queen Marie-Antoinette in the royal residence of Compiègne, delivered in two groups to the Queen by Jean-Baptiste-Claude Sené (1748 – 1803). Twenty-four of these folding stools were immediately placed in the throne room of the Château de Fontainebleau where they can still be seen. These folding stools will be installed in the bedchamber of Louis XV.

I find this interesting because it’s indicative of what has been lost from the Chateau. During the Revolution, the contents of the Chateau were destroyed or sold off. These stools, for example, are from another palace entirely, but have been used to recreate part of the Chateau de Versailles. The downside of this is that 18th-century design was customized to the room. Furnishings, wall panels, and drapery were all custom designed to fit together in that particular space. When the elements are taken apart and then put together with other pieces, some of the effect will be lost. I’m not criticizing what’s been done at the Chateau in any way, I’m just commenting that over time some things are–sadly–lost and can’t be put back together.

A commode bearing the marks of the Palace of Versailles was acquired during a public sale in Lyon. These items of furniture used on a daily basis, provided in large quantities and regularly replaced, were sold during the French Revolution. This toilet seat presents itself as a rectangular chest sitting on spindle-shaped legs. The solid mahogany was chosen with care and set-off by the decorative moulding-free surfaces. The marks of the palace are found on the back board, made of oak, the W painted simply in black ink and the hot branding of a W with a crown above it. On the other hand, there is no Garde-Meuble registration number on the commode: was it on the toilet rim, which has disappeared, or did someone forget to inscribe it on the commode as it was delivered with other pieces of furniture? Paradoxically, the most basic items of furniture are those which are lacking the most today in the palace’s collections.

I found this item interesting because, well, it’s a toilet and because it’s also mentioned that the most common items are sometimes the most difficult to find centuries later. Think about it. Will they be looking in vain for rolling desk chairs in two hundred fifty years when they try to reconstruct 21st century offices?

Marked Louis Delanois, these were the first medallion back chairs, a style that enjoyed much success in the history of French furniture. Thanks to the sponsorship of companies like Ponthieu Rabelais, Financière de Tournon and Financière du Bac, the historical items which are recognised as “National Treasures”, will be returned to the collections of the Palace of Versailles. The chairs belong to a series of thirteen, including a higher one for the King, delivered at the end of 1769 by joiner Louis Delanois for the living room of Madame Du Barry at Versailles. The living room was also decorated with thirteen armchairs, a large settee and a screen. All covered with white satin, trimmed with green satin and embroidered with silk for the summer and velvet for the winter. Madame Du Barry, who was Louis XV’s mistress after Madame de Pompadour, lived at Versailles from 1769 until the king’s death (1774). An art lover,she supported painters and craftsmen and cultivated the neo-classical style at Versailles.

Madame du Barry was one of the more interesting personages of her time, at least to me. She must have been smart and tenacious to put herself into the position of royal mistress. It’s fairly clear she had some failings, like vanity, greed, pride, and (maybe?) lust. She clearly didn’t mind committing adultery openly, but then again it seems she and Louis XV had a genuine liking for one another. The Du Barry also has a connection to our story of the fateful diamond necklace. The necklace was originally designed with her in mind. Its gaudiness would have fit her tastes. But by the time the jewelers had assembled the diamonds to make the necklace, Louis XV had died and Madame his mistress had been exiled from Court. She had no royal lover to buy the necklace for her, so the jewelers tried to convince their new queen, Marie-Antoinette, to buy it. The rest, as they say, is history.

The Chateau de Verseilles and the Diamond Necklace

Versailles is known for being one of the most magnificent palaces in the world, the seat of one of Europe’s most flamboyant monarchies, and a place where history was made. Here, Louis XIV built an architectural symbol of his power, grandeur, and exceptionally Baroque tastes. The ceilings were painted with exquisite (if a little overblown) allegorical paintings. The state apartments were a string of rooms, each grander than the last and each named after the Classical god or goddess who best fit with a specific theme. For instance, the Mars Drawing Room has paintings of, well, Mars the god of war but also paintings about war itself, such as one of Alexander the Great.

By the time of the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, Versailles was a bit old-fashioned. So many people came and went, and hygiene was so little heeded, that the place must have been pretty awful at times. Luckily, the official rooms were only a small portion of the palace, and there were private rooms behind them. It still must have been a very impressive place, and it was, at this time, still the seat of an absolute monarchy.

Before the storm of the Diamond Necklace Affair hit, Madame de La Motte was actually a frequent visitor to the Chateau de Versailles. It was here that she had to bring her appeals for more money. She was a distant relative of the king–very distant. So distant that she wasn’t given much of a hearing, especially since she’d already been granted a

The Chateau de Versailles

stipend by the crown. Shortly before concocting her plan for pulling the wool over the eyes of a Cardinal of the Church, Madame de La Motte could be found importuning the finance ministers. Monsieur de Calonne was one such minister. According to Jeanne herself, courtesy of Frances Mossiker’s translation, she was “to hear him propose that I [Madame] share the treasure of his affections . . . with his current official mistress . . . !” Indignant she may have been, but one suspects that she might have encouraged M. Colonne’s advances (at the very least), because he apparently made efforts on her behalf. She likened it to the mountain that labored to bring forth a mouse; nothing came of his efforts.

Her next effort was a kind of sit-in. She refused to move from Calonne’s office until he gave her money. She got a small cash award.

It wasn’t long before Jeanne, her husband, her “personal secretary” Retaux de Villette, or someone near her, came up with the cunning plan of fooling people into believing that Jeanne was a close friend of the Queen. The idea was simple enough: Jeanne would tell people (falsely of course–Her Majesty would never see someone like Jeanne who had no real rank) that she had the Queen’s ear. Jeanne would agree to personally speak to the Queen on behalf of other people–of course, a small gift of thanks would be expected.

Soon, her plans became more ambitious to include Cardinal Prince Louis de Rohan, an old acquaintance of the woman who acted as Jeanne’s foster mother. The Cardinal was more susceptible than most to this scheme. He had lost the Queen’s favor years ago and now wanted it back. He was fabulously wealthy and could be fooled into parting with large chunks of cash.

But how does one fool a Cardinal?

Versailles was the backdrop to several clever deceptions–or not so clever, really, since they ought to have been obvious to Cardinal Rohan.

The first ploy was simple enough. Jeanne would come traipsing away from the Petite Trianon Palace (Marie-Antoinette’s retreat) at just the right time to be seen. Those who saw her would presume that Jeanne had just come from a personal interview with Her Majesty. After all, only the Queen’s closest friends were allowed to go to the Petite Trianon, and Jeanne had just been there. Of course, that wasn’t the case. All she did was walk to the palace, then start walking away again at just the right time as though she were just leaving a tete-a-tete with the Queen.

The second ploy was subtler but no less obvious, unless one were desperate to believe. On her way to Mass, the Queen

The bull's-eye window of the Oeil-de-Boeuf Room

passed through the State Apartments at Versailles. As she went, she would nod to the crowd in acknowledgment. Jeanne made use of this habitual nod. She told Cardinal Rohan to go to the Oeil-de-Boeuf Room (so named because of the “bull’s eye window” in the room), where he would receive a nod from Marie-Antoinette as a confirmation that he was in favor with her. The Queen nodded and he believed that she nodded at him.

The third ploy is the Grove of Venus scene. A more complete story can be found in other entries on this blog, but the basic idea is this: Cardinal Rohan’s faith wavered and he asked for some kind of confirmation from the Queen in person. Jeanne arranged this. She hired a whore to play the part of Her Majesty (the whore was name Nicole d’Oliva), and on a summer’s night, the Cardinal and the prostitute met. She handed him a rose and told him, “You know what this means.” Well, he thought he knew what it meant, though he was certainly wrong. He fell for the entire thing, hook, line, and sinker, so that later on, when he was asked to sign on as guarantor for the purchase of a massively expensive diamond necklace, he agreed to do it.

The Chateau’s was one of the most prominent backdrops for the Affair of the Diamond Necklace. If I were making a play based on the Affair, one of the sets would have to be Versailles. The essence of the place–its history, associations, and grandeur–lent credibility to Jeanne’s lies. It was the perfect distraction for the sleight of hand that was really going on.

Grove of Venus

THE GREAT DECEPTION

Imagine, if you will, that you are a young woman raised in poverty but fed on stories of your royal lineage–your great-great-great grandfather was the illegitimate son of Henri II. You have tried everything to get the attention of the King, your distant relative, and the Queen, his wife who is spoiled but generally supposed to guide her husband. You’ve attempted fainting in front of the King’s sister; you’ve attempted to sit in the office of the King’s minster, refusing to leave until you get some more money; you’ve been given the honor of carrying the royal name “Valois” but this hasn’t helped finances. You have been forced to sell the modest pension given to you by the crown–instead of steady installments, you get one lump sum.

Now it’s time to get creative.

A ceiling at Versailles--mostly I add it here because it's pretty.

Jeanne de La Motte-Valois (self-styled “Comtesse”) was nothing if not creative and bold. If she couldn’t get anywhere using the official channels, she would turn to deception. The deception was simple enough: she pretended to be Marie Antoinette’s newest BFF. Being the Queen’s friend didn’t just sound nice. When you had the ear of the Queen, people came flocking to you, asking you to talk to the Queen on their behalf. All she would ask in return was a little (monetary) reward. This was not a new con. It had been done before.

However, Jeanne took it to a startling new level. Her biggest victim was Cardinal Prince Louis de Rohan, one of the most important people in France, but on bad terms with the Queen. Jeanne sent him forged letters from “the Queen” and did all kinds of clever things to make him believe that the Queen was willing to reconcile with him. She even convinced him that the Queen needed small loans. The money, of course, went straight into Jeanne’s coffers.

But what is a self-styled Comtesse to do when the Cardinal she is conning begins to doubt her? Set up a face-to-face meeting between the Cardinal and the Queen. [click below to continue reading]