Elisabeth of Valois, Queen of Spain by Juan Pantoja de la Cruz, 1605.
Context: copy of an original by Sofonisba Anguissola.
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Elisabeth of Valois, Queen of Spain by Juan Pantoja de la Cruz, 1605.
Context: copy of an original by Sofonisba Anguissola.
“April 20 / May 2 1870
I had just begun to fall asleep when I was woken up and asked to come downstairs; it was 4:30 a.m. I dressed quickly and hurried to the little one; his pulse had suddenly grown weaker and his breathing fainter, prompting Hirsch to send for me as well as for Papa and Mama. The little one was lying on Miss Kamp’s lap, completely unconscious—a state that persisted the entire time. Papa, Mama, Vladimir, and Alexei arrived by 5:15 and stayed with us all day. Minnie and I remained downstairs the whole time; around 11 o'clock, we went to my study for a moment to have some coffee, then returned to the little one, who spent the entire time lying on the laps of Minnie, Mama, and Miss Kamp in turn. The doctors came, but there was no longer any hope, as the pressure on the brain had intensified; the little one was completely unresponsive and hardly opened his eyes at all. What torment and anguish it was to see him and wait for the end. Around 1:15, Minnie took our darling Alexander onto her lap for the last time, while I kept applying cold compresses to his head. We were both so exhausted that we kept dozing off and could barely stay upright. His breathing grew increasingly rapid, and his pulse raced so fast it was impossible to count—surely over 200 beats per minute. Then his breathing began to weaken noticeably, and by 3:30, our sweet darling—our little angel—was gone from this world. He died on Minnie’s lap; his face took on such an angelic look, appearing exactly as if he were asleep. What a terrible moment that was—yet even worse was the entire day of emotional suffering, waiting, and profound sorrow. After saying their final goodbyes, Papa, Mama, Marie, and the brothers left, but Minnie and I remained behind for a while; later, I practically insisted that Minnie come to my room so she could catch her breath and have some tea. At 4:30, we went back downstairs and bathed our darling boy; then we dressed him in a short white gown and laid him on his bed in the room next to the bedroom—the very room where he had passed away. He looked so beautiful, with such a happy expression—even a smile—that it was impossible to tear oneself away from him. Minnie and I went to my study to write telegrams, and at 7 o’clock I carried our angel upstairs—with Minnie following behind—and laid him once more in his little bed in the reception room next to Minnie’s study, where the bed and the surrounding area had been arranged and decorated with flowers. The first memorial service took place at 8:30; the whole family gathered—our own relatives and others as well. It was heartbreaking to hear a memorial service for our dear son, yet the prayers and the entire service for an infant were truly lovely. When everyone had left, Minnie and I returned to the dear little body, joined by Vladimir and Alexei. We had asked the artist Kramskoi to come; he immediately began a pencil portrait, and it turned out beautifully—capturing him exactly as he looked in bed, along with his expression. God, what a day You have sent us, and what a trial—one we shall never forget for the rest of our lives. Yet, "Thy Will be done, O Lord," and we humble ourselves before You and Your Will. Lord, grant rest to the soul of our baby, our angel Alexander!”
- from the diary of the future Emperor Alexander III of Russia, on the death of his second son, Grand Duke Alexander Alexandrovich.
My translation from:
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It's my birthday, bitches!
Mary’s puzzling portrait
Sometimes artist combined more than one portrait or got inspired by some, to create a better looking copy. 5 were used for this posthumous portrait of Mary.
I found 4 and I am the desperate for the last one. And here is why.
Portrait of Eugénia Nunes Viseu, 1st Viscountess of São Caetano (1847–1888) — José de Almeida e Silva, 1911 (Santa Casa da Misericórdia de Viseu)
Karel Škréta (Czech, Prague 1610 - 1674), The Lute Player, oil on canvas, 89,8 x 73,6 cm
The veil in front of the sitter may indicate that this is a posthumous portrait. Source.
Barbara Radziwill by Lucas Cranach the Younger, 1553-1556.
Posthumous Portrait of Louise-Elisabeth of France by Jean-Marc Nattier, 1760.