Marie-Antoinette, Daughter of the Caesars

by Elena Maria Vidal

  The reign of Louis XVI is famous for the decorative arts it produced, particularly furniture in le style Louis XVI, or neo-classical style, which perhaps should be called le style Marie-Antoinette, since the Queen encouraged it as a replacement for rococo. Inspired by the excavations at Pompei, the Louis XVI style is still cherished for its sturdy simplicity, made glamorous with gold leaf, silk or velvet. Antoinette patronized the finest cabinetmakers or ébénistes, such as the German immigrant Jean-Henri Riesener, who by 1774 had been given the title ébéniste du roi. Riesener, known for his meticulous and ingenious designs, placed the royal insignia of Antoinette’s initials in bronze gilt on the pieces he made for her. During the Revolution, he managed to retrieve many of the pieces at public auction, taking off the Queen’s initials in order to resell her furniture. To his dismay, he had trouble selling them, because without her insignia the value was decreased, and thus he died in relative poverty in 1806. The Queen also employed several menuisiers or chairmakers, such as Jean-Baptiste-Claude Sené, who in 1788 made a suite of chairs for the château of Saint Cloud, as well as gilders like Louis-François Chatard, who gilded and painted the furniture. She also favored Georges Jacob, who constructed for her the fauteuil de toilette, or dressing chair, capable of swiveling 360 degrees. The chair, delivered in 1787, could be found in Antoinette’s bedchamber at Petit Trianon. She also enjoyed wall sconces, candlesticks and andirons based upon nature or myth, so Parisian bronzer Claude-Jean Pitoin created many such items in the shape of bouquets of flowers, grape vines, animals, mythological beasts, tree branches, leaves, fruits, ribbons, torches and many other whimsical forms, all gilded.

  The masterpieces celebrating the styles of classical antiquity through Antoinette’s inspiration include the mother-of pearl boudoir at the château of Fontainebleau. Called the boudoir de la Reine or silver bedroom, it was built at the order of Louis XVI as a retiring room for the Queen in 1786. Fontainebleau, built by the Valois kings but used by the Bourbons as a hunting lodge, was primarily visited by the royal couple in the autumn, as a place where they could experience more privacy and less formality. The silver boudoir linked the King’s room with the Queen’s; it is small and intimate with paneling painted in opalescent silver, colorfully decorated with intricate mythological characters and delicate floral wreaths. The furniture is inlaid with mother-of-pearl, including the Queen’s famous mother-of-pearl secrétaire built by Riesener.

  Antoinette loved the exotic, being interested in ancient as well as distant cultures. Along with encouraging furniture design based upon Greek and Roman antiquity, she cultivated the Egyptian style. Twenty years or so before Napoleon Bonaparte would bring scholars to study Egypt during his campaign there, triggering a world-wide fascination with the land of the pharaohs, Antoinette had her craftsmen imitate the artistry of that most ancient and mysterious of kingdoms. In the gold-leafed stucco moulding in the ceiling of her state bedroom at Versailles, she had a winged sphinx added next to double-headed Habsburg eagle, as well as golden sphinx andirons in the fireplace. She definitely favored the sphinx motif, which also had deep roots in Greek mythology; there are several sphinxes on guard outside the Belvedere at Trianon; in the gilt paneling of her salon doré, also at Versailles; the arms of the chairs of the silver bedroom at Fontainebleau have sphinx heads, and they are found in the paneling as well. The sphinx was a symbol used by the Freemasons at the time but, in Antoinette’s case, she probably thought them curious and cryptic and therefore romantic. In many ways the Queen’s tastes paved the way for the great Romantic movement of the next century.

  Among Antoinette’s early fascinations was the Near East, synonymous with the Ottoman Empire, long an enemy of Austria but often an ally of France. It was the beginning of the Orientalism which would spill over into the literature, art and fashion of nineteenth century romanticism. Already, ladies of the court wore plumed turbans, tassels and embroidered slippers. In 1774, at the start of his reign, Louis ordered a boudoir turc for Antoinette at Fontainebleau, completed in 1777. Censers, pearls, crescents, turbans and wheat were featured in gold-leaf on the paneling and in the vivid patterns of the lush Turkish carpet. The furniture was comfortable with many cushions; the bed, festooned with gold silk drapes, was flush against a large looking-glass. The Turkish boudoir was immediately above the state bedroom and was a place the Queen could retire to rest during the day.

  The imitation of Chinese motifs in French art, furniture, and architecture, called chinoiserie, blossomed in France under Madame de Pompadour. Antoinette embraced it as well, hiring the artist Jean-Baptiste Pillement to help her create a Chinese fantaisie at Petit Trianon. Although it no longer exists, Pillement built a Chinese pavilion in the gardens of Trianon, with a carousel on which the riders sat astride carved dragons and peacocks, while guests played billiards, cards and croquet. There was also a small Chinese tea house. As well as having several pieces of Sèvres porcelain decorated in the Chinese mode, Antoinette also had marvelous knick-knacks directly from China itself, incluing vases, perfume bottles, statues of various birds and animals, many carved from semi-precious stones such as jade and lapis lazuli. Today they appear in museums throughout the world; a few have found their way home to Versailles and Petit Trianon.

  Too often the popular image of Antoinette over the years has been that of a woman of few accomplishments, interested in nothing but clothes and jewelry. Such an image does a great disservice to a lady who among her many interests acquired a mastery of the art of needlework in her short life. Like all girls of aristocratic birth, Antoinette was taught sewing and embroidery as a child. One pastel sketch by Liotard of the young Archduchess Antoine shows her “knotting,” a form of tatting in which a shuttle was used. Ladies often carried a knotting shuttle around with them just as they would carry a fan.

  Later, when Antoinette was sent to France to marry the Dauphin Louis-Auguste, she continued to have lessons in embroidery along with lessons in dancing and music. When being read to or even when conversing with friends and family, her hands were not idle, but busy with handiwork.1 In July of 1770, the teenager wrote the following words to her mother Empress Maria Theresa: “I read, write, or work since I am embroidering a waistcoat for the King which has not progressed much, but I hope that with God’s grace, it will be finished in a few years.”2

  While Antoinette’s progress as an adolescent may have been slow, over the years she became quite adept, embroidering upholstery for chairs and cushions, as well as church vestments. She was skilled with petit point and tapestry, creating her own designs. This is known especially because of the artifacts which remain from her days in prison, such as the silk purse she crafted and embroidered with tiny rosebuds for her children’s governess Madame de Tourzel. Antoinette’s daughter reports how in the Temple prison the Queen “worked a good deal of tapestry.”3 While awaiting death in the Conciergerie the Queen steadied her nerves by embroidering a cherub on a piece of tapestry. The work was never completed.

  There were several women artists who rose to prominence during the reign of Louis XVI, and four, including Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, were admitted to the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture on May 31, 1783. The other three were Anne Vallayer-Coster (1744-1818), Adélaïde Labille-Guiard (1749-1803) and Marie-Gabrielle Capet (1861-1818). Madame Vallyer-Coster, from a family of artists and craftsmen, enjoyed royal patronage, painting the Queen as well as the Mesdames Tantes, who were great patronesses of the arts. She excelled at still life as well as portraiture, although the former did not pay as well as the latter. However, Antoinette encouraged her in the art of still life, especially her paintings of flowers. The Queen was later present at Vallyer-Coster’s wedding to a prominent attorney, a high honor indeed. Vallyer-Coster survived the Revolution and was patronized by the Empress Joséphine, although she was never as successful as in the Old Regime. She lived to see the Bourbon Restoration, making a gift of one of her still lifes to Louis XVIII. Her works are known world-wide and many can still be seen in th
e Louvre.

  Madame Labille-Guiard, the daughter of a haberdasher, was not as close to the Queen as the others; her personal life was quite stormy. As a young girl she worked in the same milliner shop as the future Madame du Barry. Taught to paint miniatures by a family friend François-Elie Vincent, whose son she later married, she eventually moved on to full-sized portraits. She won the patronage of Madame Adélaïde of France and painted several members of the Royal Family, including Louis’ sister Madame Élisabeth, as well as politicians and prominent aristocrats. During the French Revolution she was forced to renounce her royal patronage by burning an unfinished painting of the King’s brother the Comte de Provence, later Louis XVIII. In her lifetime, Labille-Guiard’s portraits were considered inferior to those of Madame Lebrun, although modern art critics have come to acknowledge that Labille-Guiard’s technique is superior.

  A native of Lyon, Mademoiselle Capet came under the tutelage of Madame Labille-Guiard. Her skill in portraiture won her the patronage of the Mesdames and other royals and persons of influence. She lived under the protection of Madame Labille-Guiard first at the Louvre, and later with her and her second husband, Monsieur Vincent. Since Mademoiselle Capet did not always sign her work, many paintings became lost or misidentified and she fell into obscurity.

  Madame Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun (1755-1842) was the official court portrait painter at Versailles during the reign of Louis XVI. Finding an artist able to create a likeness of Antoinette that pleased her mother the Empress was a lengthy process, but in 1778 a portrait by Madame Lebrun did just that, showing the Queen in court dress but with her hair unpowdered.4 She painted Antoinette many times, capturing the Queen’s personality while simultaneously perfecting her own art. In her memoirs, she describes Antoinette thus:

  Her arms were superb, her hands small and perfectly formed, and her feet charming. She had the best walk of any woman in France, carrying her head erect and with a dignity that stamped her queen in the midst of her whole court; and yet this majestic mien in no wise diminished the sweetness and gentleness of her expression. Her features were not regular; she had inherited the long and narrow oval peculiar to the Austrian race―her eyes, almost blue in color, were rather small―her nose was delicate and pretty, and her mouth not too large, although her lips were somewhat thick. But the most remarkable thing about her face was her brilliant complexion. I have never seen any so dazzling.5

  One of my favorite works of Madame Lebrun is a sketch the artist did of Antoinette after her death, showing her going to heaven, where Louis and the two children who died are awaiting her. Her hair is trailing down and she carries the palm of martyrdom. The artist, who was a friend of the Queen’s, was too overcome with grief to finish the picture.

  As readers of Trianon may recall, the novel opens with a scene of Madame Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun painting what became the portrait of Antoinette and her children. In the famous ensemble painting by Madame Lebrun, the Queen is shown wearing only a few pearls, while sitting near the jewel cabinet. The symbolism of this was to emphasize that for Antoinette her children were her true jewels. When the painting was begun in 1786, the Queen was expecting baby Sophie; the gown she is wearing is a maternity gown, as can be seen by the open and adjustable front. The emphasis of the painting was supposed to be the other children getting the cradle ready for the new baby. However, by the time the picture was completed in 1788, little Sophie had been born and had died. Hence, the cradle is shrouded in mourning cloth. After the death of her oldest son Louis-Joseph, Antoinette had the image hidden away; she could not bear the sight of it. Nevertheless, it was considered a highly accurate likeness of her. Louis XVI declared to the artist when first gazing at the portrait of his wife and children: “I do not understand much about painting, but you make me love it.”6

  Author Catherine Delors relates how other than the forementioned Vigée-Lebrun, one of the most accurate portrayals of the Queen is a 1788 portrait by Wertmüller. To quote Madame Delors:

  This portrait shows Marie-Antoinette in 1788, when she was 33. It was painted by Adolf Ulrik Wertmüller, a Swede who was a member of the Royal Academy in Paris. Indeed, according to Madame Campan's Memoirs, this is, along with the more famous portrait of the Queen with her children by Madame Vigee-Lebrun, the best likeness of Marie-Antoinette. Madame Campan, as the Queen's Première Femme de Chambre, or First Chambermaid, saw Marie-Antoinette on a daily basis. I trust her judgment on the matter of the likeness. You can see a shift in the manner in which Marie-Antoinette chose to be depicted, one short year before the Revolution. For one thing, the emphasis is no longer on ornate dresses, giant paniers or shimmering fabrics. Neither is the Queen dressed ‘en gaulle,’ in a simple white linen gown. That portrait, beautiful as it is, was the subject of much derision. People remarked jokingly that the Queen had been painted in her chemise. Here Marie-Antoinette seems to be wearing a simple riding habit. No accusations of immodesty can be made because her kerchief comes up to her chin. The sobriety and dark colors of the clothing shift the attention to the Queen's face. The features are also different from earlier images. The nose is less small and straight, the lips are thicker, the eyes more prominent than in Madame Lebrun’s idealized portraits. But I read a lot of energy and determination in these eyes, no longer dreamy, in the manner in which the head is proudly held backwards. This is the Queen who will assume a foremost political role during the Revolution. I believe that Madame Campan is right. Here at last we get a glimpse of the real Marie-Antoinette.7

  As much as I love the work of Madame Lebrun, it is true that in many of her portraits of Antoinette she was aiming for the misty, dreamy look, rather than an accurate likeness. While the en gaulle portrait is definitely an idealized representation, it embodies the life of simplicity and innocence which the Queen tried to create at Petit Trianon.

  From the time I first started to write about Antoinette, I have received comments from devout people about the low-cut gowns that she wore. Let me explain once again that, in the decadent old world, it was etiquette in most of the courts of Europe for ladies’ formal attire to include a plunging décolletage. It was considered perfectly correct as long as the proper corset was worn. The gown which evoked some disapproval for Marie-Antoinette was not one of the low-cut court gowns but the simple white linen dress which she favored for her leisure time at Petit Trianon. The portrait in which she is shown thus had to be withdrawn from the public gaze because people took offense at seeing their Queen painted in casual attire. Now to us, the white dress is perfectly modest, but to people of the eighteenth century, it looked as if she were in her chemise, without the stiff grand corps corset prescribed for ladies of the royal family. Furthermore, it was interpreted as being a pro-Austrian picture, since linen came from Flanders, one of the Habsburg territories, and the rose the Queen held was seen as a symbol of the House of Austria. In order to quell the outrage, Madame Vigée-Lebrun had to quickly come up with another painting. In 1783 the artist completed the portrait called “Marie-Antoinette à la rose” showing the Queen appropriately garbed in a silk court gown and headdress, trimmed with lace, ribbons and plumes. She is wearing pearls, as befits a queen, with hair powdered and face rouged, in accord with court etiquette. She looks as if she has just stepped into her garden on a summer evening, bathed in moonlight. The nocturnal quality of the portrait softens the formality of her attire, alluding to Antoinette's love of nature, and the fact that she was much more at ease in her gardens than she was in the Hall of Mirrors.

  Antoinette was often painted as various characters from Greek and Roman mythology, as was the custom of the time. It was thought to be the Queen in a certain miniature at a special exhibition at the Philip Mould Gallery in London in 2012. Dated 1781, Antoinette is shown as some kind of a classical deity, holding coral and rushes, crowned in pearls, with a dolphin at her side.8 I am wondering if Antoinette is supposed to represent Venus, the goddess of love and beauty who, according to the myth, rose out of the foam of the sea. Furthermore, coral
, symbolizing joy and happiness, has a classical association with that goddess. Venus was the wife of Vulcan, god of the forge. Perhaps the portrait was a gift for Louis XVI, whom she once likened to Vulcan because of his dedication to his locksmith work. A dolphin was on the coat-of-arms of the Dauphin. I think this miniature was intended as an intimate gift from the Queen to the King to celebrate the birth of their son and heir in 1781. Also, since the lady in the painting is immersed in water, it may be reminiscent of the happy occasion when Louis XVI interrupted Antoinette as she was finishing her bath and finally and fully consummated their marriage on August 30, 1777.9

  During the Revolution, Antoinette was painted mostly by the Polish potraitist Kucharski and the French portraitist Dumont. Madame Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun had fled France along with many other of Antoinette’s friends. Kucharski painted the beautiful unfinished pastel portrait of the Queen in 1792, intended as a gift for her children’s governess, Madame de Tourzel. The painting survived the Revolution, including the storming of the Tuileries. Kucharski also painted the Princesse de Lamballe, Madame Élisabeth de France and the Comte d’Artois. Dumont, who was imprisoned by the Revolutionary tribunal and barely escaped the guillotine, was known for his strong royalist sympathies. He mostly painted miniatures. In 1789, however, he painted a delightful portrait of Antoinette playing with her two surviving children, Madame Royale and the Dauphin Louis-Charles, in the gardens of Trianon. Later, around 1791, he painted Antoinette as a vestal virgin, standing beside an altar while holding a vase of lilies with a profile of Louis XVI on it. Louis XVI kept the picture on his desk in the Tuileries; the original has since been lost and only an engraving remains. The fact that Antoinette is depicted as dedicated to the goddess of the hearth, speaks of her devotion to family life, especially to her husband and children.