Showing posts with label Vigée Le Brun (artist). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vigée Le Brun (artist). Show all posts

Wednesday, 8 July 2020

An Unhappy Empress

Those of you who follow me on Twitter already know that I love to share gorgeous, cheeky and downright saucy images from the long eighteenth century using the hashtag, #gloriousGeorgians. Not everybody uses Twitter, of course, so I'll be sharing some of my favourite finds here at the salon.


When Catherine the Great saw Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun's portrait of her granddaughters Alexandra & Elena Pavlovna, she was NOT happy. "Not only is there no resemblance, but the two sisters are so disfigured that people will ask which is [which]." What a critic!



Thursday, 14 August 2014

Two Landscapes: A Sunset and a Storm

Claude-Joseph Vernet (Avignon, France, 14th August 1714 – Paris, France, 3rd December 1789)


Claude-Joseph Vernet by Élisabeth-Louise Vigée-Le Brun, 1778
Claude- Joseph Vernet by Élisabeth-Louise Vigée-Le Brun, 1778

On this, the anniversary of the birth of artist, Claude-Joseph Vernet, I thought the time was right to examine some of his remarkable works. The son of a painter, Vernet was noted for the beautiful landscape paintings he produced and he often exhibited contrasting works together, demonstrating the harmony and savagery of nature. Vernet lived for many years in Italy and fell in love with the world of the ocean, depicting wild storms and tranquil surfaces, with ships both in peril and safely sailing into port. These contrasts are nowhere clearer than in his series, Two Landscapes: A Sunset and a Storm.


A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas by Claude-Joseph Vernet, 1773
A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas by Claude-Joseph Vernet, 1773
In 1773, Clive of India purchased two paintings from Vernet, A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas and its companion piece, A Landscape at Sunset. Other than the nautical setting, the content of the paintings could not be more different and A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas depicts an image that would have not been unfamiliar to those who lived in coastal regions. In it we see mighty ships tossed this way and that on the violent waves as the few survivors stagger to safety on the wind-lashed rocks. It is an image that perfectly captures the fury of nature and the dangers of sea travel in the era, with the impressive vessels no match for the lightning we see striking off into the distance as the sun battles to pierce the clouds.


A Landscape at Sunset by Claude-Joseph Vernet, 1773
A Landscape at Sunset by Claude-Joseph Vernet, 1773

Contrast the violence the lightning flaring in the sky with the gentle depiction of soft sunlight on the tranquil waves depicted in its partner, A Landscape at Sunset. Here the waters are not a place of danger but of commerce and recreation, with people fishing and taking the air as the ships that appear so fragile in the storm sail majestically out of port. If this is the maritime dream then A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas is its nightmare flipside, the idea of the ocean as a source of riches depicted likewise as a source of danger.

As a lady who loves the sea, these are richly evocative works and I could study them for hours. Vernet's paintings are so rich in detail and these are only two, I heartily recommend that you seek out others!

Thursday, 24 July 2014

A Salon Guest... Caroline Bonaparte Murat, Napoleon’s Treasonous Sister

Today it is my pleasure to welcome the estimable Shannon Selin with the twisting tale of Napoleon’s treasonous sister.
---oOo--- 
Caroline Bonaparte Murat, Napoleon’s Treasonous Sister


Caroline Bonaparte Murat before the Bay of Naples by François Gérard
Caroline Bonaparte Murat before the Bay of Naples by François Gérard
One tries to find redeeming features in Napoleon’s sister Caroline Bonaparte Murat, but they are hard to spot. Biographers have been quite unkind: “Caroline, with a baseness that makes her resemble some monstrous queen of antiquity, betrayed husband, brother, and country alike to slake the thirst of her unprincipled ambitions.” [1] French Foreign Minister Talleyrand was more generous: 
Madame Murat had the head of Cromwell upon the body of a well-shaped woman. Born with much grandeur of character, strong mind, and sublime ideas; possessing a subtle and delicate wit, together with amiability and grace, seductive beyond expression; she was deficient in nothing but in the art of concealing her desire to rule; and when she failed in attaining her end, it was because she sought to reach it too quickly. [2]
Fresh as a Rose
Maria Annunziata Buonaparte was born on 25 March 1782 in Ajaccio, Corsica. She was the seventh of Charles and Letizia Bonaparte’s eight surviving children, and thirteen years younger than her brother Napoleon, who was away at military school in France. Known as Annunziata as a child, as a teenager she adopted the name Caroline, in an attempt to appear less Corsican (her siblings also “Frenchified” their names).
Caroline’s father died a month before she turned three. When Caroline was eleven, Napoleon fell out with the Corsican nationalists and the family had to flee to France. Caroline had a brief taste of poverty in Marseilles, but Napoleon’s rapid rise in the French army soon put an end to that. Napoleon paid for Caroline to attend an expensive girls’ school at St. Germain-en-Laye, operated by Madame Campan, a former lady-in-waiting to Marie Antoinette. Hortense de Beauharnais, the daughter of Napoleon’s wife Josephine (whom the Bonapartes could not stand), was also at the school. Napoleon’s valet relates the following anecdote from a family dinner some ten years later: 
[Napoleon] had just received a letter from a prefect who told him that a man named Geoffrin had saved several workmen in a coal mine which had caved in. The letter was given to [Caroline], who could hardly decipher it. The Emperor, seeing his sister’s embarrassment, said, ‘Give it to Hortense; she will read it.’ In fact, [Hortense], holding the letter, read it quite fluently. [3]
Suffice to say that Caroline Bonaparte was known more for her cunning than her book-learning. In 1797 she met a similarly unintellectual character in the form of General Joachim Murat, a theological student turned cavalry officer who was on Napoleon’s staff with the Army of Italy. Murat was dashing, charismatic and good-natured, with a huge mane of curly dark hair, which makes him easy to recognize in paintings. Caroline was charming and pretty – “fresh as a rose: not to be compared, for the regular beauty of her features, to [Pauline Bonaparte], though more pleasing perhaps by the expression of her countenance and the brilliancy of her complexion.” [4] 


Joachim Murat by François Gérard, 1808
Joachim Murat by François Gérard, 1808
The two fell in love. They were married on 20 January 1800, after Napoleon gave his reluctant permission (he preferred instrumental marriages to love matches). Caroline was seventeen. Murat was thirty-two. The age difference did not prevent Caroline from trying to dominate her husband.
She was soon pregnant with their first child. A month before the birth, a bomb (the “infernal machine”) intended for Napoleon exploded in front of the carriage in which she was riding. Unlike Josephine and Hortense, who were also in the carriage, Caroline kept her cool. Her son Achille was born on 21 January 1801, followed by Letizia (26 April 1802), Lucien (16 May 1803) and Louise (21 March 1805). 


Caroline Bonaparte Murat and her Children by François Gérard, 1808
Caroline Bonaparte Murat and her Children by François Gérard, 1808

The Quest for a Crown
In 1803 Murat became the military governor of Paris. He bought the Elysée Palace and moved his family in. This did not satisfy Caroline’s ambition. When, in 1804, Napoleon crowned himself Emperor of the French and proclaimed his brothers Joseph and Louis princes of the Empire, Caroline was livid that her sisters-in-law – including Hortense, who was married to Louis – would have a higher status than she would. The evening of the coronation:
Madame Murat was excessively angry, and during the dinner had so little control over herself, that on hearing the Emperor address Madame Louis several times as ‘Princess,’ she could not restrain her tears…. Everyone was embarrassed, and [Napoleon] smiled maliciously…. 
On the following day, after a family dinner, a violent quarrel took place…. Madame Murat burst into complaints, tears, and reproaches; she asked why she and her sisters were to be condemned to obscurity and contempt, while strangers were to be loaded with honours and dignity? Bonaparte answered her angrily, asserting several times that he was master, and would distribute honours as he pleased…. The discussion ended by Madame Murat’s falling on the floor in a dead faint, overcome by her excessive anger, and by the acrimony of her brother’s reproaches. [5] 
Though Napoleon gave in and granted his sisters the courtesy titles of “Imperial Highness,” Caroline continued to try to wheedle a proper crown out of her brother. The Murats threw lavish parties for Napoleon and his entourage. They also procured mistresses for him. In 1805, they introduced him to Éléonore Denuelle de la Plagne, a beautiful eighteen-year old in their employ, whom Murat was bedding. In December 1806 Éléonore gave birth to Napoleon’s first child, Charles Léon Denuelle. Caroline was elated. The birth demonstrated to Napoleon that he was not responsible for Josephine’s infertility, and thus sealed the case for divorcing her, which Napoleon did in January 1810. When – two months later – Napoleon married Princess Marie Louise of Austria, he sent Caroline to the Austrian frontier to escort her back to Paris.

In the meantime, Caroline’s toadyism bore fruit. In 1806 Napoleon made the Murats the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Berg and Cleves, having carved a principality for them out of territory taken from Prussia and Bavaria. Conveniently, Caroline did not have to reside there.
The Grand Duchess of Berg…lived in great splendour at the Elysée-Bourbon Palace. Her beauty was set off by the most exquisite dress; her pretensions were great; her manners affable when she thought it prudent, and more than affable to men whom she wished to fascinate…. [S]he endeavored to make friends among the influential members of the Government who might be useful to her…. She wanted to secure her present position, and especially to elevate her husband in spite of himself. [6]

Her lovers included General Junot, who had replaced Murat as governor of Paris, and Clemens von Metternich, the Austrian ambassador to France.
In 1808, when Napoleon moved Joseph Bonaparte from the throne of Naples to that of Spain, he made the Murats King and Queen of Naples. Caroline emptied the Elysée Palace of its French state treasures and had them brought to Naples (to be fair, Joseph had liberated Naples of its best art, and later stole the royal treasures of Spain).
Though Murat wanted to preserve his royal prerogative, Caroline insisted on being consulted on all matters of importance. They often quarreled. When, in 1812, Napoleon entrusted Murat with command of the Grand Armée’s cavalry for the Russian campaign, Caroline governed in her husband’s absence. It was her finest hour. She impressed her ministers and officials with her sound judgement. During the march back from Moscow, Napoleon hurried to Paris, leaving Murat in charge of the army’s retreat. Murat abandoned his post and fled to Naples. Napoleon was furious. He wrote to Caroline: “The King of Naples has left the army. Your husband is very brave on the field of battle, but he is weaker than a woman or a monk when he is not in the presence of the enemy. He has no moral courage.” [7] 


Caroline Bonaparte Murat with her daughter Letizia by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1807
Caroline Bonaparte Murat with her daughter Letizia by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1807
Betrayal
Though Murat rejoined Napoleon for the 1813 campaign in Germany, Caroline considered her brother’s defeat inevitable. She and Murat hoped to save their throne by allying with Napoleon’s enemies. On 11 January 1814, Murat signed a treaty with Austria. This guaranteed to him and his heirs the sovereignty of the territory he possessed in Italy. In return, he was bound to cooperate in the war against Napoleon. 
When Napoleon learned of this treachery, he said, “I was well aware that Murat was a fool, but I thought he loved me. It is his wife who is the cause of his desertion. To think that Caroline, my own sister, should betray me!” [8] 
On 26 February, Napoleon wrote to Joseph: 
It seems that the allies have not yet ratified the treaty with the King of Naples. Despatch by a courier, with the utmost haste, a letter to the King, in which you will frankly point out to him the iniquity of his conduct, offering to mediate for him if he will return to his duties. Tell him that this is his only hope; that if he takes any other course he must be destroyed either by France or by the allies…. Write also to the Queen on her ingratitude, which revolts even the allies. [9] 

It was no use. Napoleon lost and was exiled to Elba. The Murats remained in power in Naples. Murat, however, felt sorry about what he had done, He secretly entered into communication with Napoleon. When the latter escaped from Elba and returned to France in March 1815, he told his brother-in-law to maintain the Neapolitan forces in a defensive position. Napoleon hoped to keep the Austrians neutral. For this to happen, Italy (partly under Austrian control) had to stay neutral. Murat disregarded this advice. Thinking he could help Napoleon by starting a diversion, he foolishly led his forces into Italy. He was defeated in the Battle of Tolentino in early May. Murat retreated to Naples and said goodbye to Caroline. She was so angry with him (she still supported the allies) that he said, “If you see me alive, madam, pray believe it is that I have sought death in vain!” [10] She never saw him again.
Murat went to France, but Napoleon refused to see him. “Twice Murat betrayed and ruined me,” he later said. [11] Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo and was banished to the remote South Atlantic island of St. Helena.
Caroline surrendered to the commander of the English squadron that was cruising around Naples. He transported her to Trieste and handed her over to the Austrians, who kept her at the castle of Hainburg, near Vienna. Meanwhile, Murat made his way to Corsica, from where he tried to reconquer his kingdom. On 8 October 1815, Murat and a small band of followers landed at the Calabrian port of Pizzo. The locals proved hostile and Murat was arrested. On 13 October he was tried by a military tribunal, condemned to death and shot by a firing squad.


Miniature of Caroline Bonaparte Murat by Jean-Baptiste Isabey
Miniature of Caroline Bonaparte Murat by Jean-Baptiste Isabey
Life after Napoleon 
Caroline took the name of the Countess of Lipona (an anagram of Napoli, or Naples). Her former lover, the Austrian Chancellor Metternich, tried unsuccessfully to obtain permission for her to settle in Rome near her mother and siblings. Instead, she was allowed to live in the castle of Frohsdorf, south of Vienna (Marie Antoinette’s daughter, Marie Thérèse, the Duchess of Angoulême, was a later resident there). Letizia Bonaparte, in any case, had no desire to see her daughter. When Caroline protested that Murat’s 1814 betrayal had not been her fault, Letizia replied, “If you were unable to influence him, you should nevertheless have opposed him. But what opposition did you make? Has any blood been shed? It is only across your dead body that your husband should have smitten your brother, your benefactor, your master!” [12]
Caroline’s companion in exile was General Francesco Macdonald, who, despite his name, was of Italian origin. He had been an aide-de-camp to Murat and was the former Minister of War of Naples. They may have married as early as 1817, though 1830 has also been suggested. Visiting them in Trieste in 1825, Madame Récamier noted:
The queen, whose skin was as fair as a lily, was still singularly pretty, almost retaining the brilliancy of her youth. She had grown stout; and, as she was not tall, her figure had not gained in elegance. She was animated in conversation; and, from her caressing manners, it was easy to see that, when she wished to please, she could exercise great powers of fascination.
Her intercourse with her daughter [Louise] was full of the most confiding tenderness. Her bearing to General Macdonald was affectionate, with a shade of authority. To her guests … she manifested a warmth and gratitude that proved, alas! how few disinterested marks of sympathy she had received since her misfortunes. [13] 
Caroline’s sons moved to the United States, from where they pestered her for money. Her daughters married Italian noblemen. The American actor René Auberjonois, who played Father Mulcahy in the film version of M*A*S*H, is Caroline Bonaparte Murat’s great-great-great-grandson.
In 1831, Caroline was allowed to move to Florence. When Letizia Bonaparte died in 1836, Caroline fought with her brothers over her mother’s estate. To keep the dispute out of the newspapers, Joseph turned his share over to Caroline. General Macdonald died the next year.
Caroline spent a good part of her later years trying to recover the money she claimed was owed to her by France. Although the French authorities found the claims bogus, King Louis Philippe – who, in his struggle against the legitimists, wished to flatter the enemies of the Bourbons – allowed Caroline to visit Paris to pursue her case. The American scholar George Ticknor encountered her there in January 1838. 
I spent the early part of the evening at the Countess Lipona’s, the name under which Madame Murat passes here. She is a very good-looking, stout person, nearly sixty years old, I suppose, and with ladylike and rather benevolent manners. She lives in good style, but without splendour; and, like the rest of her family, allows those about her to call her Reine. Prince Musignano [Caroline’s nephew] was there, and perhaps in the course of an hour twenty people came in, for it was her reception evening; but the whole, I suppose, was Bonapartists, for I happen to know that those who wish to stand well with Louis Philippe avoid her doors; a weakness on his part as great as that which, on hers, permits her to be called Queen. [14] 


Caroline Bonaparte Murat by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, 1814
Caroline Bonaparte Murat by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, 1814
At last Caroline was granted a pension of 100,000 francs. She had little time to enjoy it. On 18 May 1839 she died of stomach cancer in Florence at the age of 57. She was buried in the Chiesa di Ognissanti in Florence. There is a cenotaph to her and Murat in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
The final word regarding Caroline must go to Napoleon. On St. Helena, he reflected on her thus: 
The Queen of Naples had chiefly formed herself amidst great events. She had solid sense, strength of character, and boundless ambition…. She must naturally suffer severely from her reverses, more particularly as she may said to have been born a Queen. She had not, like the rest of us, moved in the sphere of private life. Caroline, Pauline and Jerome were still in their childhood when I had attained supreme rank in France; thus they never knew any other state than that which they enjoyed during the period of my power. [15] 
And Napoleon had the decency, in his will (he died in 1821), to thank Caroline, along with the rest of his family, “for the interest they continue to feel for me.” [16] 
References
  1. “Prefatory Note” by W.R.H. Trowbridge in Joseph Turquan, The Sisters of Napoleon, translated and edited by W.R.H. Trowbridge (London, 1908), p. ix.
  2. Catherine Hyde Govion Broglio Solari, Private Anecdotes of Foreign Courts, Vol. 1 (London, 1827), p. 456.
  3. Louis Étienne Saint-Denis, Napoleon from the Tuileries to St. Helena, translated by Frank Hunter Potter (New York and London, 1922), p. 11.
  4. Laure Junot, Memoirs of the Duchess D’Abrantès, Vol. I (New York, 1832), p. 256.
  5. Paul de Rémusat, ed., Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat, 1802-1808, translated by Cashel Hoey and John Lillie, Vol. 1 (London, 1880), pp. 254-56. Madame de Rémusat’s account is undoubtedly coloured by her attachment to Josephine, who related part of this anecdote to her and who “could not but enjoy the vexation of a person who so thoroughly disliked her.” 
  6. Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat, p. 488.
  7. Memoirs of the Duchess D’Abrantès, Vol. VII (London, 1835) p. 391.
  8. The Sisters of Napoleon, p. 291.
  9. The Confidential Correspondence of Napoleon Bonaparte with His Brother Joseph, Vol. II (London, 1855), p. 327.
  10. Caroline Murat, My Memoirs (London, 1910), p. 21. These are the memoirs of Caroline Bonaparte Murat’s granddaughter.
  11. Barry O’Meara, Napoleon in Exile, Vol. 1 (Philadelphia, 1822), p. 134.
  12. The Sisters of Napoleon, p. 293.
  13. Isaphene M. Luyster, ed. and trans., Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Récamier (Boston, 1867), pp. 240-241.
  14. George Stillman Hillard, Life, Letters and Journals of George Ticknor, Vol. II (London, 1876), p. 127.
  15. Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases, Memorial de Sainte Hélène, Vol. II, Part III (Boston, 1823), p. 157.
  16. Letters and Despatches of the First Napoleon, Vol. III, p. 427.
About the Author
Shannon Selin is the author of Napoleon in America, which imagines what might have happened if Napoleon had escaped from St. Helena and wound up in the United States in 1821. She blogs about Napoleonic and 19th century history at shannonselin.com.


Written content of this post copyright © Shannon Selin, 2014


You can find out more about Napoleon's remarkable family in Life in the Georgian Court, now available to order worldwide!

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

Thursday, 19 June 2014

"She would have been my friend": Princess Sophie Hélène Béatrice of France

Princess Sophie Hélène Béatrice of France (Marie Sophie Hélène Béatrice de France; Versailles, France, 9th July 1786 - Versailles, France, 19th June 1787) 


Princess Marie Sophie Hélène Béatrix de France by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1786
Princess Marie Sophie Hélène Béatrice de France by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1786

Today we return to Versailles and Bourbon court once more to hear the tragic story of a daughter of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Princess Sophie Hélène Béatrice of France did not even live to celebrate her first birthday and her death left her parents bereft.

When Sophie was born she took her name from her recently deceased paternal aunt, Sophie de France, who died just four days before the infant came into the world. Although she was certainly not a physically small child, Sophie's health was weak from birth and over the short months of her life, it became apparent that the infant Fille de France was suffering from what appeared to be tuberculosis.

The best efforts of Sophie's physicians and carers could do nothing to halt the progress of the infection and in June 1787, the cutting of her teeth began to have dire side effects. Suffering from the pain of teething, the little girl suffered violent convulsions over the course of the final week of her life. 

She died on 19th June, her health just too damaged to recover. Her parents were inconsolable with Marie Antoinette telling those who counselled her, "She would have been my friend".The loss of a child was a pain they were destined to suffer again, just two years later.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

Thursday, 8 May 2014

A Salon Guest... Marie Antoinette Bucking the System (of Etiquette)

Today it is a pleasure and a joy to welcome the estimable Ginger Myrick to the salon. Ginger will be taking us on a trip into the court of Marie Antoinette and also shares an extract from Insatiable, her wonderful new novel. 

Insatiable by Ginger Myrick


--oOo--- 

Marie Antoinette Bucking the System (of Etiquette)

When Marie Antoinette first arrived in France and became Dauphine, every aspect of her routine was dictated by the ever present etiquette. In her early years at Versailles, she was docile and eager to please, knowing that any misstep would be reported to her mother, the Holy Roman Empress, the person she wished to satisfy above all others. Living her life under such constant scrutiny was a heavy burden to Marie Antoinette, but she was expected to gracefully bear it all, which she did for four long years.

The system of court etiquette originally establish by Louis XIV, the Sun King, was inescapable, almost an entity in itself.  Although the young Dauphine accepted the necessity of her routine and tolerated it to a certain extent, she was known to register her disdain from time to time. There is a well known incident when she actually voiced her exasperation aloud. This slip took place in her early years when during the course of her lever—the tedious ritual of her morning toilette—she was left waiting naked while a series of higher ranking Ladies entered her bedchamber and were forced to cede the honor of handing the Dauphine her underwear to the next in line. Marie Antoinette was reported to have said, “This is maddening! This is ridiculous!” which was unthinkable. No one in the French hierarchy had ever dared to question the proceedings, which had been in place since the moving of the court from Paris to Versailles in 1682. But when Marie Antoinette became Queen, there was no one to stop her.

Marie Antoinette by Martin van Meytens, 1767
Marie Antoinette by Martin van Meytens, 1767

Louis XV died of smallpox in 1774, and Louis-Auguste and Marie Antoinette became the King and Queen of France while still teenagers. Eager to take charge of her life and establish her authority, one of the first things the new Queen did was get rid of one of the stuffy old ladies at Versailles—whom she secretly referred to as bundles—the Comtesse de Noailles, nicknamed Madame Etiquette. Although this may have seemed a tactless act, the Queen went about the expulsion in a very subtle way.  She used her knowledge of etiquette against its enforcer by awarding the superior position of Superintendant of the Household to her friend, the Princesse de Lamballe. This resulted in putting the princess one step above the comtesse’s own position as Mistress of the Household. This was a serious breach in the etiquette the new Queen was endeavoring to buck. The comtesse was so indignant over being demoted in favor of a person without the pedigree to back it up that she resigned, leaving the new Queen and her friends with no one to reprimand them.

Comeesse de Noailles, The Lady with the Mask by Pierre Louis de Surugue, 1746
Comeesse de Noailles, The Lady with the Mask by Pierre Louis de Surugue, 1746

Here, another of her partners-in-crime enters the picture and shakes things up a bit more. During a court function around the same time, the Queen was presented with a young attractive couple, the Duc and Duchesse de Polignac. After spending a good deal of the night in rapt conversation with her vibrant new friend, Marie Antoinette decided she could not live happily without her. To ensure that the duchesse—Gabrielle as her new acquaintance urged the Queen to refer to her—remained by her side, Marie Antoinette found the Duc a position at court and installed them at Versailles, all with Louis XVI’s approval. Of course, no one would dare gainsay the King, who could not bring himself to object to so small a thing when it brought such happiness to his wife. But again, the protocol was ignored and certain people were miffed. From there, things only proceeded to get worse.

When Marie Antoinette’s husband was crowned Louis XVI in 1775, he gifted her le Petit Trianon, a private chateau on the grounds of Versailles, and Marie Antoinette wasted no time renovating the place and turning it into her personal sanctuary. It was here that she held her late-night card parties and extravagant dinners. For her twenty-first birthday she threw a three-day gambling party that even her stuffy husband attended. Although in her mind there was nothing wrong with these innocent pleasures, it was this blatant enjoying herself away from the eyes of the public that began speculation about the goings-on there.

The Duchess of Polignac by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1787
The Duchess of Polignac by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1787

The common people were indignant over not being able to openly observe the actions of their royal family, to whom they had always had access in the past. If the new Queen did not want to be observed, she must be doing something illicit! It was at this point that the libelles took advantage of the brewing drama and began to slander her character. Those who knew her found the allegations laughable and so did the Queen. Not knowing how to combat the untruths nor how to remedy the situation, she simply ignored all of it and continued to live her life in the same careless and extravagant manner, which was unwise, especially when the people of France were in dire straits. It was exactly this disparaging of her public image that made it possible for l’Affaire du Collier to be attributed to the acquisitive nature of Madame Deficit, which was the final straw in turning her into the scapegoat for all of France’s troubles. It set the stage for the French Revolution and the eventual execution of both Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, who represented everything the people were rebelling against and would endeavor to never allow to rise again.


--oOo---
EXCERPT FROM INSATIABLE: A MACABRE HISTORY OF FRANCE ~ L’AMOUR: MARIE ANTOINETTE:

Although Fersen’s continued association was something Marie Antoinette desperately desired, it was difficult for them to speak uninhibited at Versailles. Because she finally carried a royal child within her womb, the Queen’s every move was closely watched, and there could be no departure from the formality of etiquette. A few days later, they met again, and when they were left unguarded for a few moments, she casually mentioned her informal card parties at le Petit Trianon.

“It occurred to me that you might be a fitting addition to our little crowd,” she said, giving him a sidelong look from under her long lashes. “Would you be interested?”

“I have been known to play a hand or two,” he nodded with the slight mocking upturn to his prim mouth she was beginning to love so well. “But I was under the impression that entry to the Queen’s private retreat was a zealously guarded privilege. I thought one had to be invited.”

“Haven’t I just invited you?” she asked, enjoying the playful banter and wanting to prolong their conversation as long as she could, just to be in his presence a few minutes more. “If you are not comfortable with that, I can send a more formal invitation.”

“Your word is enough, my Queen, as long as you can promise that I will not be impaled by a guardsman without written confirmation.”

“I’m not sure written confirmation would help. I don’t think the guardsman can read,” she quipped. “And he sometimes arrives in a foul temper, so I cannot promise that you will not be impaled.”

“This card party is turning out to be a more dangerous prospect than I imagined,” Fersen replied, pantomiming the wiping of sweat from his brow.

His action elicited a mischievous giggle from the Queen. She quickly brought her hand up to cover her mouth, which did little to disguise her amusement, especially when her big silvery eyes twinkled with delight. Fersen found himself drowning in those eyes and thought that he could stand there and play the fool forever just to hear the sound of her laughter.
Marie Antoinette lowered her lashes demurely and scanned the immediate area to see who had noticed their silliness. No one seemed to be paying any attention, so the Queen cleared her throat and went on.

“Nevertheless, the guard is quite loyal and follows his orders exactly. I shall specify that you are to be admitted without perforations. I’ll expect you three nights hence.” Fersen bowed his compliance, which brought a lovely closed-lip smile from the Queen. “I shall see you then. Good afternoon, Count Fersen. I have enjoyed your company and look forward to more.”

Fersen arrived on the indicated night, and the guard turned out to be as loyal and well instructed as the Queen had professed. The tall Swede was granted entry and proceeded to the card party intact and unskewered. He was led up the stairs to the first floor where a servant presented him to the hostess and the rest of her guests.

“Count Axel von Fersen,” announced the man then turned and left the room.

“A new arrival!” declared the Duchesse de Polignac. “Ooh, and he’s tall and handsome!”
Axel smiled in her direction, barely registering the words. As soon as he entered the room, the Queen’s ethereal presence enveloped him like a fine luminescent mist, casting a dreamy haze and lending the experience a surreal feel. She was swathed in a loose white dress of a gauzy material that fell in graceful feminine pleats, giving her the appearance of a Greek goddess. He moved forward in a trance, utterly dazzled by her loveliness.

“Good evening, my fair Queen,” he managed to get out, bowing low.

“Oh, please,” she waved dismissively, “here at le Petit Trianon we dispense with such formality. You are among friends here, Count Fersen. Feel free to address the rest of us by our given names. Well, at least me,” she laughed. “Some of us are slightly more pretentious … I mean particular than the rest. Like my good friend here,” she said, indicating Jules de Polignac, husband of the admiring Duchesse. “What is it that you wish to be called this evening, Monsieur?”

“I am neither pretentious nor particular, merely discerning,” answered Polignac, never taking his eyes from his cards. “Tonight I am Batu Khan, ruler of the Golden Horde.”

“Yes, I remember now,” Marie Antoinette said with a giggle. “Last week it was Sultan Ahmed, this week it’s Batu Khan. I can only assume he is planning a tour of world domination. At any rate, we do not stand on ceremony at our card parties. Please, call me Antoinette.”

“Then you must do the same,” he smiled. “Call me Axel.”

“Axel,” she said tentatively, feeling a thrill rise within her as she uttered his given name for the first time aloud. Her face glowed with excitement, and her silvery blue eyes glittered in anticipation. “Please sit down, Axel, and we’ll deal you in.”

He did as she bade him, relieved to note that no one had paid a whit of attention to his momentary stupor. They were all busy goading each other, trying to peek at the others’ hands, and generally having a raucous good time. He was dealt his cards and automatically began to organize them in his hand, relaxing a bit now that he was not so absorbed by the Queen’s airy presence. They played for about an hour until the others began to feel the effects of the wine and got restless, wandering off in pursuit of more wine and livelier diversion. The Queen, who had no real palate for drink, remained in her seat, smiling indulgently at her degenerate group of friends.

They had each fervently wished for the chance to be alone together, and that moment had finally come. They found themselves face to face with no outside person to distract them. They sat for a few moments in silence, desiring desperately to confess their affection for the other but neither wanting to be the first to begin. Regardless of the relaxed atmosphere pervading her personal retreat, the cursed court etiquette had raised its head again, filling a space between them like a physical entity. Finally, Axel grunted at the irony and offered a polite and meaningless platitude.

INSATIABLE is available at:
Connect with Ginger at:
Facebook       Goodreads       Twitter

This post copyright © Ginger Myrick, 2014.

You can find out more about Marie Antoinette's doomed reign in Life in the Georgian Court, now available to order worldwide!




Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

Saturday, 3 May 2014

Princess Élisabeth of France, A Most Loyal Sister

Princess Élisabeth of France (Élisabeth Philippine Marie Hélène de France, Versailles, France, 3rd May 1764 - Paris, France, 10th May 1794)


Élisabeth de France by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun
Élisabeth de France by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

It seems like barely a week goes by without a trip to revolutionary France and today we are there again, this time to meet the lady known as Princess Élisabeth of France. Known as Madame Élisabeth, she was a loyal and loving sister of Louis XVI and remained with the doomed royal family to the very end.

Élisabeth birth was a far cry from the sad scenes that would close her life and she was born at the Palace of Versailles, daughter of Dauphin Louis and Marie-Josèphe of Saxony. Orphaned at the tender age of two, the little girl and her sister, Madame Clotilde, were raised Marie Louise de Rohan, comtesse de Marsan.

Under Marie Louise's tutelege they enjoyed an excellent education and Élisabeth soon showed herself to be a highly skilled artist as well as a pious young lady dedicated to her faith and family above all else. The thought of leaving France was one that the young Élisabeth refused to countenance and as a result she rebuffed discussions regarding a possible marriage to Joseph II, Holy Roman Emperor. Instead, Élisabeth remained with the family she adored and she held true to this even when Revolution swept through France urging her brother to put down the people by force.



Élisabeth of France by Joseph Ducreux, 1768
Élisabeth of France by Joseph Ducreux, 1768

A passionate defender of the French monarchy, she wrote a letter to her brother,  Charles-Philippe, comte d'Artois, urging him to marshal military forces to come to her brother's aid. The letter was intercepted by the National Assembly and they began to regard Élisabeth with new eyes though even now her fate was not quite decided.


Further opportunities were presented for Élisabeth to leave the family and go to safety with her aunts yet she elected instead to join the ill-fated flight to Varennes, in the guise of a nursemaid. When the escape was thwarted she was returned to Paris with her family, providing much needed moral support as their situation became more desperate.


Madame Élisabeth by Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, 1788
Madame Élisabeth by Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, 1788

Following the Insurrection of 10th August 1792, she was imprisoned in the Temple Tower with the rest of the royal family. Élisabeth and her niece, Marie-Thérèse remained with Marie Antoinette until she was transferred to the Concierge on 2nd August 1793 and were never told of her death. The final letter written by the queen was addressed to Élisabeth but never reached her. Held in the Temple with the teenaged Marie-Thérèse, Élisabeth provided her niece with moral support and comfort, a familiar and friendly face at what must have been a terrifying time for the young girl.

Élisabeth presented something of a problem for the new administration and initially they hoped to exile her from the country yet it soon became apparent that she was not willing to go quietly. Accused of aiding her brother's escape attempts, she remained defiant at her trial and spoke passionately to the Tribunal in support of her family and the monarchy.  There was no question of what the verdict would be and she was duly pronounced guilty and sentenced to death.



Madame Élisabeth as a Vestal Virgin by Charles Le Clerq, 1780s
Madame Élisabeth as a Vestal Virgin by Charles Le Clerq, 1780s

The Princess was one of two dozen prisoners who were condemned to be executed on the same day and as she waited for her turn on the scaffold Élisabeth provided support and prayers for those who were due to die alongside her. Élisabeth mounted the steps to the scaffold with dignity, showing no fear to the crowd that had gathered to watch and following her death she was interred in a mass grave at the Cimetière des Errancis.

Following the Restoration, Louis XVIII attempted to recover her remains but they were unidentifiable. Instead, the Princess is remembered with a memorial dedicated to her name in
 the Basilica of Saint Denis.



Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)
SaveSave