The following February, an announcement of a forthcoming property auction appeared in Paris’s leading papers:
Succession of Mme Valtesse de la Bigne, ‘La Chapelle-du-Roy’ in Ville-d’Avray, with two large paintings by Ed. Detaille, ceiling by Galland, approximately 16,638m (park with beautiful trees).10
The material remnants of Valtesse’s life were gradually being disbanded.
English administrative sources reported Valtesse’s remaining personal effects to be worth in the region of £11,600 (over £1 million in today’s money).11 To most, such wealth was inconceivable. The money must go somewhere. But if Valtesse was unmarried, people wondered, who was her next of kin? Who were the descendants through whom she would continue to live? What was her human legacy?
Some people remembered Pâquerette. If the mother and daughter had seen little of each other in later years, Valtesse had nevertheless maintained a healthy communication with Pâquerette. With just a little research, the curious Parisian would have discovered that by the time Valtesse died, the awkward teenager who had been fought over so publicly had become a woman and a wife. But that was not all: there was another family secret, one which Valtesse had been sure to keep quiet. When Le Figaro confirmed that the lion’s share of Valtesse’s fortune would be passed to Pâquerette, the paper had an additional scoop to surprise its readers: Paris’s most aloof and beautiful late courtesan was not only a mother – she was a grandmother.12
Paul, Margot and Andrée were the fruit of Pâquerette’s 20-year marriage to Paul Jules Auguste Godard. The girls in particular proved strength of character and the ability to charm to be enduring family traits.
While the children only met their grandmother a few times, relations were amicable enough for Margot to become Liane de Pougy’s goddaughter. ‘What a lovely girl,’ Liane enthused when Margot visited her some years after Valtesse’s death, ‘fresh, stylish, dazzling rosy complexion, the look of an archangel at the gates of heaven! Her skirt was very short, and revealed her right leg, imperious and agile.’13 Liane adored her goddaughter – until Margot grossly betrayed her. When Pâquerette died within a few years of her mother, Margot came across a bundle of Liane’s most personal letters to Valtesse – and sold them. ‘She put them in an auction!’ Liane exclaimed, ‘My twenty-four letters fetched sixty francs. Indecent treachery! Nothing on earth would surprise me now.’14
But Margot’s pluck was far surpassed by that of her sister, Andrée. Born in 1903 while Valtesse was busily setting up home at La Chapelle-du-Roy, as a child Andrée fell passionately in love with the theatre. Having inherited her grandmother’s hunger for public recognition, Andrée became entranced by the cinema and all things American. She thought of herself as a star. Even Liane was impressed at the entrance the youngster made when she arrived at her house for tea one summer day in 1920. ‘Last but not least we opened the gates to a ravishing grey motorcar from which Andrée de la Bigne emerged, all golden in a dress of blue Japanese silk – really stunning, that girl – and loaded with chocolate caramels.’15
In the early 1920s, Andrée set out for America, and her dream of stardom began to take tangible form. Assuming a stage name that flaunted her French heritage, Andrée Lafayette arrived in New York fixed on becoming a star of the big screen, and in 1923 her determination was rewarded when she won her first major role in the film version of George du Maurier’s Trilby. The spectacular professional break also triggered a personal one, since the film caused Andrée’s path to cross that of American actor Max Constant, who would become her husband.
In the age of silent films there were no linguistic hurdles to overcome, and with her beauty and the exotic appeal of her French heritage, public and directors alike adored her. Hollywood stills show a beautiful blonde with hypnotic, sultry eyes who shared the even features and smooth, porcelain-white complexion which secured Valtesse’s fortune. ‘A delight,’ commended one American reviewer, ‘a girl of a type unusual to the American theatregoer, she adds to the charm of a vivid personality a particular talent.’16 Andrée soon discovered that parading her ancestry, and even on occasion selling information to the papers, worked to her advantage. Another critique in America described her as ‘a dazzling blonde with hair of finely spun gold, and limpid blue eyes, characteristics of her Normandy ancestry. She comes by her beauty naturally enough, for her grandmother was the beautiful and noble Valtesse de la Bigne, whose portrait now hangs in the Luxembourg museum.’17 Du Maurier was said to have admired Valtesse, so it was ‘fitting that her granddaughter should play the title role in the picturization’.18
Trilby launched a 30-year film career which saw Andrée travelling the world and taking roles in films including The Three Musketeers (1932) and, even more aptly, The Lady of the Camellias (1934).19 For a time, Andrée and Constant were the ultimate Hollywood couple. Wherever they went, they were photographed, while their relationship – and rows – were closely monitored by the press. When Constant called for a divorce, it instantly became public knowledge.20 Still, Andrée persevered in her career. She effortlessly made the perilous transition from silent to audible films, her French accent and Parisian mystique merely expanding her fan base. But if she boasted Valtesse’s pretty face and allure, Andrée had also acquired her grandmother’s fierce self-preservation instinct. She rejected any contract she deemed unreasonably demanding. As a result, her film appearances were not numerous, and during the 1940s she disappeared from cinema screens entirely.
But by the time the Second World War broke out, the de la Bigne name was back in the public domain, and once again connected with royalty. A rich widow and former actress, the self-styled Comtesse Andrée de la Bigne, had taken up residence aboard the 176-ton yacht Davida on the Riviera and begun a very public affair with one of the most prominent men in Europe: the Greek Prince Andrea, father of Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark, later the Duke of Edinburgh.21 Some held that the bewitching beauty denounced in the royal household as ‘an adventuress feathering her own nest’ was the very same Andrée Lafayette attempting to start anew; others insisted that this Andrée was actually Margot’s daughter (Valtesse’s great-granddaughter).22 If she remained elusive about the precise nature of her relationship to Valtesse, Comtesse Andrée de la Bigne openly flaunted her gallant heritage.
She was nothing if not committed: Andrée was with Andrea when he died of heart failure in Monte Carlo’s Hôtel Métropole in 1944. Hence it was Andrée that Prince Philip and his private secretary, Michael Parker, went to meet in the Café de Paris in Monte Carlo to collect the late Andrea’s possessions. The royal mistress strode into the café with all the confidence of a film star. The men found her to be elegant, beguiling and disarmingly self-assured.23 But as the full extent of Andrea’s debts were revealed, it became clear that, along with her grace and charm, the current Comtesse de la Bigne had also inherited Valtesse’s magnetic command of a male admirer’s assets.
Valtesse had always known that she could not control her family, merely do her utmost to conceal their connection to her. But there was one last thing she could control, even after her death: her paintings and her objets d’art. It was in the arts that she had made her reputation, and it was through the arts that it could best endure. Valtesse had been fluent in the intricate language of the art world. She knew all the leading museums and galleries. She understood how they worked, which were the most eminent, the subtle distinctions in nuance that each would inflect on a donor’s reputation. Crucially, she recognised the power the art world exerted. She had tasted it, and she was not prepared to give it up.
To the Louvre, Valtesse bequeathed two fans painted by Detaille. The Musée de Versailles received the artist’s painting The Tsarevitch Reviewing the Troops, while the Musée de Cluny was offered a costly Indian gold bracelet.24 To all the donations, Valtesse attached two conditions: each museum should display the pieces fittingly and, more importantly, they must ensure that Valtesse’s name be indicated on a plaque next to each exhibit. She decided that the
Musée de Luxembourg would be the choicest venue for Gervex’s 1879 portrait of her, on the understanding that the museum display a notice next to the work with the wording: ‘Portrait of Mme Valtesse de la Bigne, displayed in the exhibition of portraits of the century, donated by herself.’ The Mairie in Ville-d’Avray was offered four portraits, and the church, a decorative panel.25 Her bed was bequeathed to the Musée des arts décoratifs where it could be seen and admired – though no doubt the donor’s primary motivation was to justify having purchased such a luxury, reasoned one journalist generously.26 Meanwhile, Valtesse’s other paintings and portraits were distributed to galleries across the world. Her conquest was now complete.
But there were also the two paintings of her fictitious relatives, the pair of portraits that the journalist saw when he visited the museum in Caen in May 1933. The two pieces were donated along with a portrait by Pezzela of Valtesse’s friend Gabrielle Dupuy (who had been with her when she died), and a plaster medallion by Deloye, with similar stipulations concerning their exhibition. There they hung on the museum walls until 1944. Then, when the museum was bombed during the Second World War, the paintings of the de la Bigne ancestors were reported missing, presumed destroyed.
However, as they passed the heap of devastation left in the aftermath, several locals swore that they had seen stooped figures sifting frantically through the rubble. Somewhere in Europe, those paintings may sit tucked away, gathering dust. Perhaps one day those last traces of Valtesse will be found.
Acknowledgements
My first chance encounter with Valtesse occurred one spring afternoon in the peaceful sanctuary of a university library. I was researching Henri Gervex’s painting The Civil Marriage (1880–81) in the final stages of my PhD. As I scanned the painting, my eyes met those of a single figure looking back at me. I was startled. In a crowd of celebrities and royalty, in a still male-orientated society, this woman appeared confident and self-assured. I became fascinated by the figure before me. Little did I know that at that moment, a journey had begun. The Mistress of Paris is the culmination of that journey, and it would not have been possible without the assistance of some remarkable individuals and organisations.
First and foremost, I am grateful to the Biographers’ Club for awarding the proposal for The Mistress of Paris the runner-up prize in the 2012 Tony Lothian Competition for best proposal by an uncommissioned, first-time biographer. The society has continued to provide support since the book was commissioned, for which I am deeply appreciative. I am also indebted to The Society of Authors’ Authors’ Foundation for the grant which assisted me in the final stages of writing this book.
Sincere thanks are due to Duncan Heath, Kate Hewson, Andrew Furlow, Robert Sharman and the publishing team at Icon Books. I am profoundly grateful to my agent, Andrew Lownie, for his unwavering commitment, dedication and hard work.
This book would not have been the same without the assiduity of Anna Swan and Sarah Sears. Thanks are also due to Kate Williams for the support and advice throughout this project, and to Gillian Tindall for her encouragement in the early stages of my non-fiction writing.
Valtesse’s story has taken me on a voyage of discovery across France. I have followed her down passages and side streets in Paris’s 10th arrondissement; she has led me to forgotten archives in Normandy and guided me to a fairytale palace in Ville-d’Avray. Along the way, we have stopped off at museums and galleries, libraries and theatres, where I have encountered many knowledgeable individuals. All these people have come together to help me tell Valtesse’s tale.
I am indebted to Christophe Marcheteau de Quinçay at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Caen for sacrificing a sunny afternoon to go through archives with me, and to his staff for their assistance in my research on Detaille and Valtesse’s donation to the museum. I am grateful to Jean-Marie Levesque at the Musée de Normandie for his detailed knowledge on the migration of peasants to Paris in the 19th century. Jean-Christophe Pralong-Gourvennec’s insights into Gervex’s personal life and his relationship with Valtesse have been invaluable. Information supplied by the Musée Carnavelet documentation centre and the wisdom of Gérard Leyris informed my understanding of Valtesse’s childhood and the squalid living conditions in the 10th arrondissement. The Musée de l’Armée were helpful in assisting me in my research of Detaille’s paintings, while thanks are also due to the Musée d’Orsay, the préfecture de police, and the Mairie of the 19th arrondissement in Paris for permitting me to view the The Civil Marriage while a wedding was under way. Immeasurable thanks are due to Damien and Florence Bachelot for their hospitality on an unforgettable Sunday in Ville-d’Avray, and for their assistance in my research of Valtesse’s property. I am also indebted to Sophie Huet at the Service Communication et Culture at the Mairie de Ville-d’Avray for her help with my research. Dominique Cécile Claudius-Petit has been a fount of knowledge on the history of Ville-d’Avray. I am grateful to Audrey Gay-Mazuel and the staff at the Musée des Arts décoratifs in Paris for allowing me access to the archives on Valtesse’s bed. I am equally indebted to the Mairie de Monaco and the Palais Princier de Monaco for their assistance with my research of Valtesse’s time in Monte Carlo.
Finally, my deepest thanks go to those who equipped me with the tools needed to undertake this journey. I am fortunate to have benefited from the wisdom and guidance of the late Professor John House at the Courtauld Institute of Art, to whom I owe my introduction to Gervex. Professor Colin Davis at Royal Holloway, University of London has also been a consistent source of support and knowledge.
I am ever thankful to my grandparents, John and Muriel Maskell, Jenifer Wayne and the inspirational C.H. Rolph, whose absence is keenly felt, but whose wisdom happily lives on.
Last but not least, I should like to thank my family, John, Elaine and Sam Hewitt: the greatest support team, the most tireless of proofreaders and the best of friends.
Picture acknowledgements
1878 map of Paris (Paris: Bernardin-Bichins, 1878). (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Édouard Manet, Mademoiselle Lucie Delabigne, called Valtesse de la Bigne, 1879, pastel on canvas, 55.2 × 35.6cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, H.O. Havemeyer Collection, bequest of Mrs H.O. Havemeyer, 1929. N. inv.: 29.100.561. (2015 © Digital image, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York/Art Resource/Scala, Florence)
Lucie Emilie Delabigne aka Valtesse de la Bigne, c. 1880, photo Anatole Pougnet. (Apic/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Henri Gervex, The Civil Marriage, 1880–81, oil on canvas, 83 × 99cm, Salle des Mariages, Mairie of the 19th arrondissement, Paris. (2015 © White Images/Scala, Florence)
Henri Gervex, La Toilette, 1878, oil on canvas, 55.5 × 38.2cm, private collection. (Photograph courtesy of Sotheby’s, Inc. © 2012)
Designed by Édouard Lièvre, Lit de parade belonging to Valtesse de la Bigne, c. 1875, Paris, gilt bronze, beechwood and velvet, 410 × 260 × 200cm, Les Arts décoratifs – Musée des Arts décoratifs, Paris. (Photo Les Arts décoratifs, Paris/Jean Tholance, all rights reserved)
Two photographic portraits of Valtesse. (Photos Charles Reutlinger, Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Henri Gervex. (Photo 12/Universal Images Group/Getty Images)
Liane de Pougy. (Photo Charles Reutlinger, Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Édouard Detaille (Photo Atelier Nadar, Bibliothèque nationale de France)
98, Boulevard Malesherbes, 1877 drawing by M. Huot. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Jean Rostand (1894–1977) pictured in front of Valtesse’s former property in Villed’Avray. (Photo Roger-Viollet/Topfoto)
Henri Gervex, Portrait of Madame Valtesse de la Bigne, 1879, oil on canvas, 205 × 120.2cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris. (2015 © White Images/Scala, Florence)
Valtesse’s tomb at Ville-d’Avray. (Photo Topic-Topos)
Selected bibliography
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Jack, 1911)
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Anon, What’s What in Paris (London, 1867)
Anon, Les Courtisanes du Second Empire: Marguerite Bellanger, 10th edn (Brussels: Office de Publicité, 1871)
Antonini, Paul, L’Annam, Le Tonkin et l’intervention de la France en Extrême Orient (Paris, 1889)
Ariès, Philippe, and George Duby, eds, A History of Private Life, trans. by Arthur Goldhammer, 5 vols (Cambridge, MA and London: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1987–1991)
Mrs Armstrong, Good Form: A Book of Every Day Etiquette (London, 1895)
Auriant, Les Lionnes du Second Empire (Paris: Gallimard, 1935)
____ La Véritable histoire de Nana (Brussels: Mercure de France, 1942)
Barielle, Jean-François, and others, Champs-Elysées, Faubourg St Honoré, Plaine Monceau (Paris: Henri Veyrier, 1982)
Barrès, Maurice, Le Quartier Latin; ces messieurs, ces dames (Paris, 1888)
Comtesse de Bassanville, Code du cérémonial. Guide des gens du monde dans toutes les circonstances de la vie (Paris, 1867)
Bazire, Edmond, Manet (Paris, 1884)
Beaumont-Maillet, Laure, Vie et histoire du Xe arrondissement (Paris: Éditions Hervas, 1991)
Bédoyère, Charles Angélique François Huchet la, Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, 2 vols (London: G. Virtue, 1827), vol. 2.
Bergerat, Émile, Les Chroniques de l’homme masqué (Paris: C. Marpon et E. Flammarion, 1882)
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