The French furniture in the Gulbenkian Museum is impressive.  The collection includes pieces by two great masters: Séné and van Risen Burgh (also spelled van Risamburgh).

In a previous post, we looked at a set of Beauvais-upholstered chairs by Séné.

Pair of fauteuils by J.B.C. Séné in the Gulbenkian Foundation museum in Lisbon.

Today we’ll examine four pieces by van Risen Burgh/van Risamburgh.

When you visit the gardens of Versailles today, the plantings you see are not those of Louis XIV and Le Nôtre.

The Sun King and his great gardener together oversaw the design and planting of the gardens in a series of campaigns that was largely completed by the late 1680s, though the King continued to tinker with various elements until the end of his life.  The only major alteration in the reign of Louis XV was the construction of the Bassin de Neptune in the northeastern corner of the gardens.  Le Bien Aimé otherwise concentrated his gardening efforts on the Petit Trianon.

The Bassin de Neptune on a rainy day in late March, 2016.

The layout of the gardens as we see them today, then, is still more or less as it was at the death of Louis XIV in 1715.  Plants are living things, however, and though some live long, none are eternal.  According to ‘The Gardens’ page on the Château’s official website, it was understood from the start that the gardens would have to be replanted once every hundred years or so.

I had never heard of Cristobal de Villalpando (1649-1714) before stepping through the doors of the Palacio de Iturbide in Mexico City’s Centro Historico in May, 2017.

The Palacio (see the previous post for details of this building: http://versaillescentury.com/2017/06/20/versailles-century-building-palacio-de-iturbide/#more-1068) now belongs to the Banamex Cultural Foundation, which happened to be running an exhibition dedicated to Villalpando.

Sign for the Villalpando exhibition at the Banamex Cultural Foundation, May, 2017.

Walking through the exhibition, I was thunderstruck by Villallpando’s canvases and amazed that I had never heard of him.

This week’s musical monarch, Frederick the Great, was not only a music lover, but a proficient flautist and composer.

Frederick the Great.  Credit: Wikipedia.

Prussia’s future third king developed his musical tastes and talent early.  In the little Crown Prince Frederick’s household was one Rentzel, who was not only Frederick’s drill master but a flautist.  Nancy Mitford, in her biography of Frederick, says of Rentzel that “it was he who started Frederick on music and taught him to play the flute, an accomplishment which was to mean so much to him.”  Frederick’s father, King Frederick William I, was not keen on the flute playing, which he regarded as effeminate, and at times attempted to ban his son from pursuing this past time.  He was not successful.

It’s well known that Louis XIV was an avid and accomplished dancer in his youth.  In 2000, the Belgian filmmaker the Gérard Corbieu memorably depicted the young king’s dance spectacles in the movie Le Roi Danse (The King is Dancing).

It’s also quite well known that the Sun King was surrounded by music from morning till evening.  Indeed, he was rarely out of earshot of one group of musicians or another.  Even while he was hunting there would have been horns, after all.

At HMV Canada’s going-out-of-business sale at its flagship store in Toronto, I purchased this boxed set of music from Louis XIV’s court.

Les Menus Plaisirs de Louis XIV de Paris à Versailles (Harmonia Mundi), a 10-CD boxed set of music from Louis XIV’s court.

Tiepolo was the last great Venetian master, apart from the view painters Canaletto, Bellotto, and Guardi.  I was delighted to find 3 of Tiepolo’s smaller works in the collection of the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga (MNAA) in Lisbon when I visited there last April (2016).

Born in 1696, Giambattista Tiepolo trained in the studio of Lazzarini before being accepted into the Venetian painters guild in 1717.  He was also influenced by his study of the great Venetian masters of the past, such as Veronese and Tintoretto.  His success seems to have been almost immediate.  Eventually, his renown spread across Europe and he accepted commissions in Germany, notably in the Residenz at Würzburg, and later in Spain.  He died in Madrid in 1770.

Here is a view of the Tiepolo wall at the MNAA.

A trio of small Tiepolo works in the MNAA.

Louis XVI’s library at Versailles is the only room in the Private Apartments (Petits appartements) that the unfortunate monarch substantially altered after he came to the throne.  Otherwise, he left his grandfather Louis XV’s rooms more or less as he found them.

Consequently, this library is also the only room in the Private Apartments that is decorated in the neo-classical style to which Louis XVI has given his name.  Note the rectilinear paneling in the picture below.

Looking into Louis XVI’s library from the west door.

Louis XV had of course also had a library.  In fact, he had several.  A series of small libraries in the attic-level Petits cabinets was constructed for him in the 1730s, including a map room.  He lost interest in the Petits cabinets after the creation of the Private Apartments and eventually made them over to his daughter-in-law, the Dauphine, in 1766.  After her death, they passed to Mme du Barry, for whom an exquisite little library was arranged.  It can be visited today.