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Is this the face of Anne Boleyn?

4 Feb

Amongst all the portraits that claim to depict the ill fated Tudor Queen, Anne Boleyn, I would say that this is the least in favour, probably because her supporters (of which there are many so I’d better watch my tongue really) don’t think it is sufficiently glamourous or flattering.

However, it is clear from the chronicles of the period that Anne Boleyn was more attractive than the outright dazzling beauty, and that a lot of her charm was probably due to a certain intelligent winsomeness of manner and an ability to use her fine dark eyes and cloud of raven black hair to full effect. Neither of which even a master like Holbein could effectively convey via the medium of pencil or brush.

In contrast, the alleged Holbein sketch of Anne Boleyn depicts a not unattractive woman in a frumpy headdress that hides her hair, with a long face, emphasised by a slight double chin and a certain melancholy manner. Perhaps I am alone though in discerning a slight smile behind her downcast dark eyes and nudging the corners of her full pink lips. However, this is perhaps not the sort of face that one could imagine ensnaring Henry VIII. I’m reminded though of the recent incident when Russell Brand rather unwisely Tweeted a photo of his wife Katy Brand in bed without make up on and looking almost unrecognisable…

The eighteenth century ‘Anna Bollein Queen’ inscription on the sketch, as with the other Holbein sketches in the Royal Colection, is due to an earlier identification by Edward VI’s tutor, Sir John Cheke, who knew most of the sitters and can surely be relied upon to be able to identify a portrait of someone so significant to the Tudor court.

Although the identification as Anne Boleyn has fallen out of favour somewhat in recent decades thanks to the work of Eric Ives amongst others, I was really interested to see that the Royal Collection website now proudly proclaims that this is indeed the portrait of Anne Boleyn – this definite identification being based on Cheke’s authority on the matter, a study by art historian, Bendor Grosvenor in the book ‘Lost Faces’ and also the efforts of Professor Maria Hayward to analyse the garment worn by the sitter and identify it as a fur lined nightgown presented to Anne Boleyn by her husband, Henry VIII.

A source at the Royal Collection has informed me that based on all these factors, they made the decision to positively identify the sketch as being a portrait of Anne Boleyn in the recent exhibition about Henry VIII and have stuck to this ever since. They acknowledge that we will probably never know the truth of the matter but the evidence pointing to this indeed being a depiction of Henry VIII’s second wife is compelling enough for it to be the most likely identification.

They also pointed out that the lack of glamour and clear informality of the image, which has led many to doubt that it could possibly be a portrait of the apparently very fashion and image conscious Anne Boleyn is actually a point in its favour as who else but the Queen could be comfortably depicted in such an informal and natural way?

A flamboyant lady

15 Jan

A gorgeous portrait by John Singleton Copley of Abigail Bromfield, Mrs Daniel Dennison Rogers, painted in around 1784.

I’ve loved this painting ever since I came across it while studying for my degree. I love the drama, the shimmering colours, the rich colours of the sunset in the background, the wildness of the sky and the archly questioning look in the sitter’s eyes.

I’ve had a bit of a love/hate relationship with the artist ever since my very first week on my degree course at Nottingham University. I foolishly volunteered to lead the very first seminar, only to discover that it was to be about Copley’s best known work, which depicts some sailors tussling with a shark. I have an extreme shark phobia, so it didn’t go very well as I couldn’t bring myself to say the S Word, look at the picture or touch any pages that had it on. My next seminar, on the topic of Benjamin West’s painting of the death of General Wolfe, was not destined to go much better though, with no such excuse.

A sweet boy painted by Boucher

10 Jan

This has been one of my favourite portraits ever since I was a little girl and came across it in a book about Waddesdon Manor. I was really thrilled to see the real thing a couple of years ago when we went there for the day and it was just as lovely as I had always anticipated.

The portrait is of the two year old Louis-Philippe-Joseph de Montpensier, the future Duc d’Orléans and was painted in 1749 by François Boucher. Lavish portraits of children have always been popular amongst royalty and the aristocracy, which may be surprising when you consider the high rates of infant mortality but when portraits by a master such as Boucher didn’t come cheap what better way to show off your wealth than by commissioning a painting of your toddler son and heir?

The boy in the painting grew up to succeed his father as Duc d’Orléans and became husband to Mademoiselle de Penthièvre, who I have featured before here. He would go on to embrace liberal politics and ended up voting for the execution of his cousin, Louis XVI before ultimately being guillotined himself in November 1793.

Luckily, there are no grim foreshadowings of his awful fate in this lovely portrait and instead we can enjoy the shimmering silver brocade of his dress and the interesting paraphenalia of priveliged eighteenth century childhood that surrounds him such as his beautiful silver and coral teething rattle, his sweet little clumpy silver shoes and the splendid rocking horse at his side.

The pulchritudinous Honourable Mrs Graham

7 Jan

Mrs Graham was a renowned beauty, who had additional bonus exotic points for having been raised in Russia where her father, Baron Cathcart was Ambassador to the court of Catherine the Great. Her arrival back in England must have been akin to the return from Paris of Anne Boleyn two centuries earlier and it is no surprise that her husband was passionately in love with her. It is said that he once rode ninety miles in pouring rain to their country seat to fetch her a necklace that she wanted to wear to a ball in Edinburgh that night. No mean feat.

Sadly for her husband and dozens of ardent admirers, poor Mary was stricken with tuberculosis and began to waste away, becoming extremely frail and weak in the process although her beauty was apparently very little diminished. It was during a restorative holiday in Brighton that she was to be introduced to today’s other great beauty, Georgiana of Devonshire and the two became the best of friends, in fact some might say that they were more than friends.

It’s hard to say for certain what happened between Mary and Georgiana as most of their friendship was necessarily conducted by letter and the languishing, affectionate language used between women of the time may well seem laden with significance and innuendo to twentieth first century eyes but was just conventional in the eighteenth century and nothing out of the ordinary in a culture where sensibility and sincere friendship, amité were much admired and considered to be the ideal.

Desperate to improve his wife’s failing health, her husband took her to Nice in Spring 1792, where it was hoped that the more salubrious climate would help her recover or at least be more comfortable. Sadly she was to die on the 26th June and he would be faced with the difficulties of transporting her corpse back through a France that was ravaged by revolution and insurrection. Horribly, her coffin was opened in Toulouse by a group of French soldiers and mistreated, which must have added terribly to her widower’s grief.

The beautiful Mrs Graham was buried in a mausoleum in Methven and, unable to deal with his grief, her husband first covered her most famous portrait with a length of white cloth then decided to give it to her sister as he just couldn’t bear to look upon her face. The painting was later given to the National Gallery of Scotland, on condition that it was never allowed to leave the country. In contrast to her other portrait by Gainsborough, which now resides in Washington.

Mr Graham would initially try to cope with the loss of his adorable wife with a lot of foreign travel but the incident at Toulouse appears to have preyed on his mind, leading him to a great loathing and hatred of the French in general and French soldiers in particular which in turn seems to have influenced his decision to join the army and take part in the war against them. This could have ended badly but on the contrary he became well known for his gallantry and heroism.

The belle Marquise de la Fare

7 Jan

This exquisite piece is a portrait by Jean Honoré Fragonard of Gabrielle de Riquet de Caraman, the Marquise de la Fare, probably painted in 1775 at the time of her marriage to the Comte de la Fare. Gabrielle-Françoise-Victoire de Caraman was born on 28th June 1755 the daughter of the Marquis de Caraman and his wife, Marie-Anne de Hénin Liétard, a daughter of the Prince de Chimay.

Fragonard isn’t best known for his portraits, as he tended more towards genre pieces or softly lascivious private commissions for the aristocracy. It’s a shame that he didn’t produce more likenesses really as the portraits that do survive are quite lovely.

A Revolutionary family portrait

7 Jan

The Comte de Bourcet and his family by Charles-Paul Landon, 1791.

At first glance this is a charming family group but then when you look more closely, it becomes much more complicated. The Comte was the Officier de Maison for the household of the Dauphin and here, he makes no secret of his royalist loyalties as busts of the imprisoned Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette are prominently displayed beside the family along with a white lily, the symbol of the monarchy, which presumably represents the Dauphin. The dead specimen on the table represents his dead brother, the ‘first’ Dauphin who died in 1789 and whose portrait hangs prominently on the wall above the family.

There are signs of tragedy in the Comte’s family as well. By the table, there rests a portrait of a man, who is possibly a brother of the Comte while on the wall, an empty ominous frame is waiting for someone but who?

A harmonious lady

6 Jan

A portrait of Mary Hamilton Beckford, painted in 1799 by Benjamin West. This graceful portrait is a formidable testament to the good breeding, aristocratic heritage and excellent taste of the sitter. The eye is drawn to the elegant house in the background and to the book of music on Mrs Beckford’s lap, both carefully placed to ensure that any onlookers are made fully aware that they are in the presence of a lady who is both talented and well heeled.

A lady in prettiest pink

5 Jan

How is this for splendid? It’s a portrait of Sir John Pole and his wife Elizabeth by Thomas Hudson and was painted in 1755.

I love how the beautiful shimmering salmon pink of Lady Pole’s gown is echoed in the sunset behind the couple. I also love Lady Pole’s faintly coquettish and yet arch air and the rather risky way that she is showing off one of her shapely ankles. Sir John has a face that is quintessentially Upper Class English and you can still see men who look exactly like him wandering around point to points in Yorkshire in a rather racey yellow cords and Hunter wellies ensemble.

It’s a very English portrait of a very English couple and yet it owes a certain something, perhaps the twinkle in Milady’s eye to the French school led by Fragonard and Boucher. It’s a charming piece of work but perhaps it is easy to see why Walpole (who was Hudson’s neighbour in Twickenham) considered the artist’s style to be somewhat vulgar and flashy.

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