It Depends on What You Pay

Hyacinthe Rigaud, Portraitist to the King

Moi et Versailles

The museums have opened and life (at least mine) is sweet again. From Wednesday May 19 to Thursday the 28th, I saw 7 exhibitions. In 9 days. I avoided the weekend to let people who have jobs that don’t include visiting museums (poor dears), book for the limited number of timed entries available. I have been in the Dordogne since last Friday, visiting some of the villages, wineries and restaurants I introduced Terrance and Monika to last fall. I’ll tell you about them sometime soon.

When museums opened after the first confinement, the first museum I visited was the Musée Jacquemart-André. That haven of sumptuous, refined elegance was exactly what I needed to buoy my spirits. And that’s what I did this time, too. But last time, despite reserved and timed entries, the wait was long and everybody, museum staff and visitors alike, was apprehensive. We didn’t know what to do, we didn’t know the protocol. This time, even though rain threatened, everything was cool - no line, no crowds, no rain. We all knew the drill. I’ll tell you about that exhibit another time.

Next on my list was Versailles. Have you ever watched the gardeners bring out the pots of citrus from the orangeries? Alone? (Figure 1) I mean only with the gardeners? Have you ever wandered along the Hall of Mirrors? (Figure 2) Alone? Well, I wasn’t completely alone, there were a few courtiers, I mean guards, hanging around. But I was mostly, deliciously, decadently, alone, as I wandered down those miles of ornate, sumptuous, elegant rooms - kind of like the Jacquemart-André on steroids !

Figure 1. Overlooking the Orangerie at Chateau de Versailles

Figure 2. Hall of Mirrors, Chateau de Versailles

The temporary exhibition at Versailles focused on the painter, Hyacinthe Rigaud. (Figure 3) Not a household name now, although the painting for which he is most well known, a portrait of Louis XIV, is. The exhibition was originally scheduled to run for four months. Instead it will be up for 3 weeks. It couldn’t be extended further because loans of paintings are for limited times, because museums schedule exhibition years in advance, because if they postpone the next exhibition any longer, they will have two truncated exhibitions instead of one. This is the first major retrospective on this artist. Because I know how much work goes into a temporary art exhibition like this, it really breaks my heart that so few people will have a chance to see it. There is a catalogue, of course and the scholarship doesn’t disappear. And yet. Well, never mind.

Figure 3. Hyacinthe Rigaud Exhibition. Self portrait of Hyacinthe Rigaud painting the portrait of François Castanier, 1730, Musée Perpignan, France

We’ll concentrate on two aspects of this artist’s work: what it was like to sit for a portrait at Rigaud’s studio and why the portrait of Louis XIV was just right when it was painted and why it is still resonates even now, 320 years later.

But first, a little biography. Hyacinthe Rigaud (Figure 4) was born in 1659, in Perpignan, which was then in Catalunya. A few months after his birth, hostilities between France and Spain ended and Perpignan became French. Rigaud's family were craftspeople, his father was a tailor, his grandfather, a gilder and painter.

Figure 4. Hyacinthe Rigaud, self portrait, 1698, Musée Perpignan, France

Rigaud first apprenticed to a gilder in Carcassonne. He was trained to apply gold leaf to paintings and objects. After a few years, he changed course and became apprenticed to a painter in Montpellier. By the age of 16, (in 1675) Rigaud was in Lyon, earning a living painting portraits. And he had changed his name from the Catalan, Jacint Rigau-Ros i Serra to the French, Hyacinthe Rigaud.

The year after he moved to Paris at the age of 22, he won the Academy of Painting & Sculpture’s prestigious Prix de Rome. The award conferred upon its recipients a stipend to live and study in Rome for 4 years. Rigaud won it after working for years in the provinces rather than studying for years under an artist in Paris. And he won it on his first try. The painter Jacques Louis David lost three times before he finally won and he was so depressed after the third loss, he contemplated suicide. Edouard Manet and Edgar Degas both tried but never won the award.

The President of the Royal Academy at the time was Charles LeBrun. (Figure 5) Have you heard of LeBrun? Probably not. He is responsible for the many miles of canvases displayed on the top floors at the Louvre. I know him from his Méthode pour apprendre à dessiner les passions, a compendium of facial expressions that artists consulted to correctly depict emotions. (Figure 6) The men reacting to Wolfe’s death in Benjamin West’s ‘Death of General Wolfe’ and the students gathered around Socrates in Jacques Louis David’s ‘Death of Socrates,’ are quotes from LeBrun (Figures 7, 8)

Figure 5. Charles Le Brun, portrait by Nicolas de Largillière, 1683-86, Louvre, Paris

Figure 6. Méthode pour apprendre à dessiner les passions Charles LeBrun, 1698

Figure 7. The Death of General Wolfe, Benjamin West, 1770. National Museum of Canada, Ottawa

Figure 8. Death of Socrates, Jacques Louis David, 1787, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Even though LeBrun had studied in Rome for 4 years when he was Rigaud’s age, LeBrun advised Rigaud not to go to Rome. I don’t know why. Did he think that Rigaud would not profit from the experience. Did he worry that it would alter Rigaud’s style? Or did he just want to keep this young man, his protégée, close. Whatever the reason, until LeBrun’s death in 1690, Rigaud had a very well placed champion.

Rigaud repeated in Paris the success he had achieved in Lyon. One of his clients, the naturalist and art critic, Antoine Dezallier d'Argenville expressed his admiration this way: “The truth shone in everything he did [...]. Rigaud knew how to give his portraits such a perfect resemblance that … one entered into conversation with the persons they represented.” He imbued his sitters with life.

Rigaud’s portraits captured not only the likeness of his sitters, but of their costumes, as well. Rigaud rendered fabric with such verisimilitude that as you look at them, you want to touch the shimmering silk and the stiff satin, you want to run your hand along the nap of the fur and the velvet, you want to tap the metal. (Figures 9,10)

Figure 9. Exhibition Poster, portrait of Philip V, King of Spain, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1701, Chateau de Versailles

Figure 10. Portrait of Samuel Bernard, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1716, Chateau de Versailles

Rigaud’s portraits have been praised as precise records of contemporary fashions. Which they might be. But not necessarily of the people who wore them. Let me explain. Did you ever see the musical, The Fantasticks? One of the songs is the Rape Song. Which sounds totally creepy now, I know. But if you have seen the musical, you know that it is lighthearted and dear. Here is the chorus: You can get the rape emphatic. You can get the rape polite. You can get the rape with Indians: A very charming sight. You can get the rape on horseback, They’ll all say it's new and gay. So you see the sort of rape Depends on what you pay. It depends on what you Pay.

And so it was with portraits by Rigaud. It depended upon what you paid. When a client decided to sit for his portrait to the great Rigaud, there were a lot of decisions to be made which would determine the price of the eventual portrait. How much of the body to show, whether to show hands or not, of course. And what clothes to wear, specifically whose clothes to wear.

John Singleton Copley, the American colonial artist depicted at least four women wearing the same dress. It was a gorgeous dress that one of the women owned. She lent it to sisters and nieces when they sat for their portrait to Copley. (Figures 11, 12)

Figure 11. Mrs. Daniel Sargent, John Singleton Copley, 1763, De Young Museum, San Francisco

Figure 12. Right, Mrs. Mercy Otis Warren, John Singleton Copley, 1763. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

It was different with Rigaud. He had the costumes and if you agreed to wear any of them, since he had already painted them on other sitters, you would not only be beautifully attired but you would pay less because whoever would be finishing your portrait already knew how to paint the clothes you would be wearing. (Figure 13) A portrait could still be personalized, sort of, with accessories and backgrounds, all selected from a book of possibilities that Rigaud had for his clients to peruse.(Figure 14)

Figure 13. Portraits of Duc d’Antin (left), Chateau de Versailles, 1710; Duc de Villars (right), private collection, 1704. Hyacinthe Rigaud

Figure 14. Study of hands, cravate, cuirasse, flowers, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1715-25. Musée des Beaux-Arts, Rouen

Like Rubens before him and Joshua Reynolds after him, Rigaud employed a stable of artists. And we are not talking about apprentices or journeymen, grinding paint and preparing canvases. Although there were those, too. No, we are talking about master artists who specialized in one or other speciality or subspecialty from battle scenes and drapery to objets and perspective. With Rigaud, the portrait became a “creation of total art”, according to museum curator, Ariane James-Sarazin. By which she meant that in a portrait, history, still life and genre painting could be incorporated at the sitter’s pleasure (and pocketbook). Rigaud offered his clients a repertoire of compositions and accessories, ranging from flowers to hand positions to choose from. (Figures 15, 16) And like the Rape Song, the final price depended upon how fancy and how unique a portrait the sitter wanted - it depended upon what he paid.

Figure 15. Study of Hands, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1715-23, Musée Fabre, Montpellier

Figure 16. Study of Flowers, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1690 -1700

After all that was decided, a client would normally have two sittings with Rigaud, at Rigaud’s studio, each lasting three hours, normally on two consecutive days. Rigaud would paint the sitter’s face directly onto the canvas. Hands, clothes, accessories and background would be painted later, after the client left, by Rigaud or by one or more of his assistants/associates. The painting would normally be completed in a few months, then framed and shipped to the client. Rigaud provided two additional services, he could make copies of the portrait if a sitter wanted them for other residences and he could have the portrait engraved for the sitter to present to friends and family. Here is a fun and fact filled recreation of a client coming to Rigaud’s studio to sit for his portrait: www.lescarnetsdeversailles.fr

Now let's talk about the one painting by Rigaud with which you are probably familiar. His portrait of Louis XIV, the Sun King. (Figure 17) This portrait was commissioned by his grandson who was leaving for Spain and wanted a portrait of his grandfather to take with him. And of course, to make the portrait Rigaud went to the sitter, the sitter didn’t come to Rigaud. When the painting was finished, Louis decided to keep it. King’s prerogative. He had a copy made to send to Spain. The original painting became the official portrait of the king and is known as the “L’État, C’est Moi’ portrait.

Figure 17. Portrait of Louis XIV, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1701, Chateau de Versailles

Rigaud’s monumental portrait is life-size and full body. Standing in the center of the canvas, wearing his coronation robe, Louis looks directly at the viewer. He is the Supreme Leader. He rules by Divine Right. Of course the scene is rich and opulent and ornate. But nothing is there just because it looks good. Everything is there for a reason. The portrait is filled with symbolism. The marble column on the left, on a gilded base, for example, symbolizes strength. The gilded female figure holding a balance is a symbol of Justice. The black-and-white ermine fur and the blue-and-gold fleur-de-lis symbolize the French monarchy. The royal sword fastened to the king’s hip, symbolizes his military might. In his right hand, Louis holds the royal scepter. His crown rests on the table.

Surrounded by emblems of his authority, Rigaud’s Louis XIV is still an old man, portly with a double chin and jowls. But what about that hair? What about those legs? Rigaud may have accurately depicted Louis’ aging face - but the hair, the legs, suggest that underneath those robes is a still vital man. Rigaud knew precisely what he was doing. The king was particularly vain about his legs and his hair. He had performed in numerous ballets as a young man. And he was proud of his well turned calves. In one ballet, he was Apollo, the Sun God. And Louis became the Sun King. (Figure 18). Louis was short, so of course he wore high heels. And of course those heels were painted red. Long before Christian Louboutin’s red stiletto heels were a thing. (Figures 19, 20) And when he was young, Louis’ hair was gorgeous. When he started to lose his hair, he did not embrace bald, he hired an army of perruquiers to keep him in perruques, (wigs). And that’s what we are looking at here. A short king in high heels with a cascading head of fake curls surrounded by symbols of his power. A portrait in which the sitter is both identifiable and idealized.

Figure 18. Louis XIV as Apollo, Henri Gissey, 1654, Royal Collection Trust

Figure 19. Portrait of Louis XIV, Hyacinthe Rigaud, 1701, detail, shoes, Chateau de Versailles

Figure 20. Christian Louboutin, red soled high heel shoes, from 1991.

When I was writing this review, I came across an article by Kimberly Chrisman-Campbell inThe Atlantic, about Louis XIV’s role in introducing fashion to France. Here are a few fun facts.

When Louis XIV came to the throne in 1643, the fashion capital of Europe was Madrid. Spanish style was tight and rigid and clothes were predominantly black. High-quality black dye was extremely expensive, and the Spanish flaunted their wealth by using as much of it as possible, the dye for which, logwood, Spain imported from its colonies in Mexico. (Figure 21)

Figure 21. King Philip IV of Spain, Diego Valezquez, 1628, Prado, Madrid

With no luxury industry at home, French aristocrats had to import their fashions from Spain. Louis XIV and his finance minister, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, changed all that. “Luxury became Louis XIV’s ‘New Deal.” Eventually, nearly one-third of Parisian wage earners were employed in the clothing and textile trades. Colbert organized them into “highly specialized and strictly regulated professional guilds, ensuring quality control and helping them compete against foreign imports.” Nothing that was made in France could be imported from abroad. (Figure 22)

Figure 22. Portrait of Louis XIV, after Claude Fefèbvre, 1670, Chateau de Versailles

While the Spanish fashion industry prided itself on maintaining the same look year after year, one of Colbert’s most effective innovations was to mandate that new textiles appeared twice a year, hiver and été (winter and summer). The summer fashion season began on Pentecost (7th Sunday after Easter; mid to late May) and the winter season began on November 1, All Saint’s Day. As Chrisman-Campbell notes, while many of Colbert’s and the Louis XIV’s innovations and reforms didn’t survive the Revolution, the high-end fashion and textile industry did ! To read the full article, www.theatlantic.com

With Memorial Day just behind us, I hope you have all taken out your summer frocks and white patent leather shoes. I’m guessing that like me, you’ll be putting them away again by Labor Day. Although now that I’ve read this, I think I get to wear my summer clothes for another 2 months here in Paris, until Halloween !

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