The Royal Portrait

By Neil A Miley

Sarah Bernhardt persuades The Prince of Wales to have Jules Bastien-Lepage paint his portrait. The physical barrier of the English Channel terrifies Jules, almost as much as his friends overestimation of his abilities.

How does a French Republican paint a man who is both the leader of the Masonic movement and future King of Engla

• Language: English
• Publisher: Upside Down Inside Out Art
• Release date: Nov 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645046229

Book preview

The Royal Portrait

Neil Miley

Bastien-Lepage Series Book 4

First Published 2022

©Neil Miley 2022

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN: 978-0-6450462-2-9

Front Cover

Portrait de Son Altesses Royale Monseigneur Le Prince de Galles

by Jules Bastien-Lepage

Oil on canvas, 1879

32.5cm x 40cm

Photo (C) Royal Collection Trust/All Rights Reserved

Back Cover

Woodcut Portrait of The Prince of Wales after Jules Bastien-Lepage

Author’s collection

Preface

This third book of the Bastien-Lepage Series emerged after I was midway into writing a book on his painting of Jeanne d’Arc. Initially, this work’s content was to form part of that story. It became clear that the Prince of Wales’s portrait was too complex a tale to run as a minor part of a novel and give readers a clear enough impression of the character’s status in the story. In effect, the storyline became muddied by keeping the two paintings in the same book.

Readers that have both books will find there is much overlap between the two, but as far as possible, there is no overlap of text directly from one to the other. Most of the characters involved in the Prince of Wales' portrait are less critical in the story of the Jeanne d’Arc. Conversely, a few of this book's minor characters are significant characters in the story of Jeanne d’Arc.

As with most novelists, I have attempted to grow as a storyteller in writing this book. I aim to give the reader a closer, less inferred view of the characters than in my previous works without leaving the reader unable to draw their own conclusions. As E.M. Forester would have put it, the earlier works in the series border on history books rather than novels, there is a story, but the lack of description of the characters’ passions has been deficient.

It occurs to me that the stories are essentially history; I’ve not made them up; they are predetermined. That a painting will exist at the end of the book is predetermined; the evidence is on a gallery wall or in a Gallery storage facility somewhere. Though the proof is in a private collection in this book’s case, only images on the internet are available to the public.

The interaction of the characters is fictional, resulting in the revelation of the historical story. But much of the detail is based on memoirs by the actual participants. Fortunately, I’ve found that most of the memoirs are inconsistent and, to some degree, are often fiction of their author’s creation.

One thing that is also evident from several characters’ memoirs is that the artist often presented a different reality to each of his friends. This deception has worked its way into the story, creating characters who do not entirely understand the artist’s circumstances. As a sub-plot weaved into the main storyline, it leaves the reader to decide what they think is the reality.

The text is written entirely in English, but the speech is only in English at specific points. The need to indicate when a character speaks English or French is dealt with the same way as in previous novels, with spoken French shown in italics.

I have not attempted to create a Postmodernist hyper-reality. To me, the idea of hyper-reality is just another description of embellishing a story, and that is all I have done.

There is a tremendous amount of detail in this book. The reader can skim it or take it all in. Hopefully, this book can be read and re-read, always giving more to the reader.

The main problem I encountered in writing this book was that I had to work hard to bring out a rounded character of the Prince of Wales into the story. I have failed the same way Bastien-Lepage failed to give the man a definite character in the portrait. There are so many facets to the man: his desires, official position, his mother’s demands, his relationship with heads of state throughout Europe, and the demands of being a father and husband. At times the story is so wrapped up in presenting the Prince that the portrait and Bastien-Lepage become secondary characters.

Sarah Bernhardt gets a Commission

The Comedie Francaise theatre company’s fifty members and their servants are ranged along the ship’s rail, waiting expectantly as the journey comes slowly to an end. A stiff breeze coming from the Continent presses the packet steamer towards the Folkestone pier. The thick coal smoke from the funnels, the engines’ noise, and the cascading water noise from the paddle blades, combined with a universal sense of seasickness, drives the passengers to wish these last few minutes of the sea journey were already over.

Gustave Worms, the distinguished leading actor of the Comedie, notices the large crowd on the breakwater cheering and waving to the packet. "Sarah, Perrin tells me that Mr Hollingshead, with some help from your friend Mr Jarret, has organised a reception for the Companie. If this is any indication, six weeks in England and thirty or more performances should see us happy to be back in Paris."

Sarah Bernhardt’s thoughts are already racing ahead, thinking of her long-considered plan of self-promotion. "I must convince our good friend, the Prince of Wales, who did much to encourage the Gaiety Theatre to engage us, to commission Jules Bastien-Lepage to do a portrait of him. I promised Jules I would do it, and it would make the portrait he painted of me far more famous. There is a lot for me to do to make this trip worthwhile, not just performing for the Comedie. Worms reflects on the portrait of Sarah for a moment. Yes, that portrait made a great impression at the Paris Salon in early May. He surprised me with the brilliance of his interpretation. He seemed to capture something about you that all those other artists have either not seen or could not get on canvas." As she continues, Sarah’s bent for publicity and personal engagement shows plainly to the unsurprised Worms. "I’m sure we wouldn’t get this reception without the Prince. Hopefully, he will like the album we put together to thank him. Worms, equally aware of the importance of the Prince, adds his voice to the thought. I do hope he is here to greet us; that would be quite a coup for publicity."

Worms can see in Sarah’s eyes her elation at the crowd's presence on the pier. Also becoming evident in her expression is a certain amount of stage fright starting to control her. She falls silent and stares at the crowd, holding her dog tighter. Worms, having seen this before when she falters before an important performance, wraps her with one arm to comfort her. She gently looks at him as though to thank him, then pulls back, hands him the dog, and waves slowly to the crowd, a starting signal for all the actors to do the same.

Sarah hissingly whispers an outburst of fear. "This is just my second sea trip; it is the first time we have been outside France for many of us. With everyone having to have their costumes at their accommodation because the theatre is so tight, I feel a sense of potential financial failure. I can’t let that happen. Worms whispers his reply, causing those around him to strain to unsuccessfully hear this secretive conversation. I know you wouldn’t say that to any other member except for the ladies. I’m grateful you have that confidence in me. The Prince of Wales and I formed something of a friendship over the years; I will encourage him to sit for that rogue of a painter Bastien-Lepage if I have the opportunity."

A final dramatic shudder brings the packet to rest against the pier, pressing or throwing the passengers against the rail. Shouted orders and rapid tying off secure the ship, then the gangplank is run out. At the stern of the packet, the crew, within a minute, start winching luggage ashore, and shortly after, the carters start transferring the offloaded luggage to the waiting train’s rear carriage.

As the Director of the Comedie, Emile Perrin becomes the first passenger to mount the gangway, followed by the senior actor Edmond Got. They unsteadily move forwards, trying to recover their land legs as they descend to the pier. The reception crowd is thronging the breakwater, cheering the arrival with the deafening roar of a thousand enthusiastic voices. A group of dignitaries led by John Hollingshead welcomes Perrin as he arrives at the pier. Then in their turn, each member of the Comedie is greeted as they set foot on English soil. For many of the Comedie, the trip has been their first sea voyage – their faces grey from the nausea of seasickness are now bleached white by the crowd’s enthusiasm.

The actors leave the ship in order of seniority as Societares, reflecting the Comedie’s conservatism and management. At last, the comparatively recent appointment as Societare, Sarah Bernhardt steps onto the gangplank in her turn, followed by her maid. The svelte actress is immediately identifiable with pulled back red frizzed hair and a tight-fitting white costume. The intensified cheer of greeting from the entire crowd stuns her momentarily. Hesitating, she forces back the impulse to vomit, then walks as self-possessed as possible to the pier, clinging to her long-haired pug Minniccio.

Two young men press forward from the official greeting party to hand, or rather press, flowers on Sarah. Starting to put stage fright behind her, she enjoys the moment accepting a single Gardenia from one, "Mademoiselle; I offer this flower from myself, Johnston Forbes-Roberts and Mr Henry Irving. He offers his apologies for being unable to be here today. Astounded at the mention of Henry Irving, Sarah attempts to answer in English, Thank you, sir, and pass my thanks to Mr Irving. It is indeed an honour to have the foremost Shakespearian actor apologise to me, quite unnecessarily. Forbes-Roberts, left uncertain of what has been said by the Parisian accent that buries the words, steps back, assuming his French is more completely understandable than Sarah’s English. The second young man presses her to accept a Lilly. Oscar Wilde, Mademoiselle, your recent performance in Paris was superb. This sudden boost to Sarah’s self-esteem enables a confident-sounding response, Thank you, English is not yet a comfortable language for me to speak, but I will get better at it".

Mr Jarret, John Hollingshead, and Mr Mayer, the tour’s primary sponsor, inform Perrin that the Prince of Wales has gone urgently to France to discuss the muted German and Austrian alliance. The news puts the Prince’s presence at risk on the opening night and augurs ill for the success of a significant gamble for Perrin. Seasickness, the strain of managing the trip’s transport added to the first negative news, is enough to ignite Perrin’s fiery temper.

Perrin angrily throws a glance at Sarah, insinuating she is taking too much attention and should move across the pier as quickly as possible. As a conservative theatre bound to the tradition of Moliere, the Comedie shares notoriety across the actors; independent behaviour undermines that ethos that Perrin has long supported. Worse is yet to come; the crowd’s enthusiasm for her places the remainder of the company in the shadows. The taller young man proceeds to scatter Lillies as she walks- hesitantly at first- towards the waiting train. Exasperated with the attention paid to Sarah, Perrin returns to Hollingshead, discussing the details of the last leg of the journey for the Companie.

The celebrity awarded Sarah is cause for some offence from the more senior members of the Comedie, relieved only when her disappearance into the train allows other Societaires to get a share of the attention. Worms coming down immediately behind Sarah, at last, noticed by the crowd, receives a round of applause. Jeanne Mounet-Sully, a large, dark-haired man of almost forty, descends the plank with measured senatorial steps. Coquelin, a smaller man of not impressive appearance, swaggers down the plank as though about to burst into operatic song. Sophie Croisette, her proud stance enabled by stepping down amongst the last after being sick for much of the hour and a half crossing.

With all the Comedie finally transferred from ship to train, the last leg of the long day’s journey starts. It has been an exhausting day for the Comedie members, leaving Paris by train to Boulogne mid-morning, then two hours on the steamship to Folkestone and now another two hours in front of them by train to London. Everyone is tired, irritable, and impatient; some are beginning to feel hungry; others can’t stand the sight of food for a few more hours.

Arriving at Charing Cross Station just on sunset, the last blast of steam from the train sounds almost as exhausted as the actors as they slowly prepare to exit the carriages. By the time the Comedie engage enough hansoms and arrives at their Hotels spread across London, it is nearly ten o’clock. Those lucky enough go to the Hotel Dieudonne in Ryder Street, where a meal and a welcome from the French-speaking staff are available.

Sarah being her usual independent self, has arranged separate accommodation. This independence surprises the Comedie members and adds to the sense of offence she creates with her independence. Mount-Sully, a recent leading man who knows her well, warns her, We will see you tomorrow, do try to be less separate from us. Perrin and Got are already talking of not retaining you. Mount-Sully, consider if I am thinking of retaining them! Perrin has insulted me several times and attempted to treat me like a chattel of the Comedie. As for Got, he is a dodderer, a fine actor, but he understands nothing of the modern theatre that is replacing his romanticism. The public is tiring of them; we have to present a fresh theatre. Ah, that clarifies the situation. Please stay with us until the end of the London engagement. You know you’re considered the major drawcard for us in England. The response to you at the pier showed that clearly. Without you, this could be a financial disaster for the Comedie, Mount-Sully understands the weakness of the Comedie’s position and Sarah’s contempt for Perrin and Got as they attempt to bind her to the rules of the company.

After an exhausting day, food is the last thing on her mind. Her travel finally ends in a carriage in an unknown city. Sarah departs the station for 77 Chester Square, followed by a second carriage with her costumes and personal luggage. She finally arrives at about ten o’clock, accompanied by her agent Mr Jarret. Jarret has already installed two of Sarah’s servants and her artist friend Clarin, so the house is as welcoming as it can be after such a tiring journey. Her tiredness is only set aside by the many bouquets of flowers that line the entrance to the accommodation and her desire to hear every card read to her.

Sarah asks her servant while allowing her senses to be intoxicated with the scent of each bunch, "Do we have the cards from these bouquets? The positive effect of the sent soon evaporates with the answer. All are from your friends in Paris except this one that reads ‘Welcome- Henry Irving’. That is disappointing; after our grand reception at Folkestone, I had expected a crowd at the station, but there were only travellers that didn’t know us. Though it is wonderful to have been acknowledged by the most important Shakespearian actor in England", recovering from joy, disappointment looks unlikely for a few more minutes.

"Did you see there was nobody at the station to greet us? I thought the red carpet was for us for a moment, but no, it had been for the Prince and Princess of Wales who had just left for Paris. Sarah becomes annoyed by the Prince’s departure. Jarrett can see he has to calm Sarah, unaware she has already experienced the Prince’s games in Paris and the theatre’s secondary importance to him. He is, above everything else, the face of the Monarchy. The Prince has bought a season box and will be back in a week. His trip seems to be an official one he could not cancel. The newly married Duke of Connaught will attend the theatre during his absence. I should tell you the Prince departed due to international events. It sounds like Germany and Austria are forming an alliance. Some of the Prince’s games in Paris appear to cover more serious discussions with the French Government. He should be back next week."

"But I need to see the Prince. I have spoken to him of Bastien-Lepage’s portrait and almost convinced him to give Jules a commission. It will just take a little more convincing to get him to go ahead with my new Holbein. The recollection of her plan brings her back to a more positive frame. Why is it so important to get a portrait commission for a painter? We have to concentrate on your performances with Hortense Damain, not to mention with the Comedie Francaise. Jarret wants to focus on the events he has arranged for Sarah to undertake; as an entrepreneur, he will lose money if she stretches herself too far. If he paints the Prince, then the Prince and I will be linked through his reputation, something I can use to my advantage in every country. Did you know Bastien-Lepage has become the leader of a school of art without the slightest intention to do so?" Sarah’s response encourages Jarret and shows him the expansive thinking she applies to her career.

"Excellent, that link is a great idea. You mentioned every country; does that include America? That was my initial proposal when we spoke in your Studio in Paris? Yes, that includes America, but on return to France, I have performances in Belgium being negotiated. Would you help me with the organising? I didn’t know if I could trust you when we first met, but since then, you have met every expectation." Sarah relaxes her guard a little to bring Jarret into her inner circle.

Jarret, the consummate promoter, sets to plotting to gain from the portrait. "Work on the Prince the minute you get the chance; it will immediately enhance your standing in London. We have to spread it as a rumour once he decides, if not before the deal is done." Sarah, at last, relaxes enough to smile. "Yes, rumours are such wonderfully inexpensive advertising."

"Tomorrow is a free day; the Comedie is not rehearsing. I have organised for several journalists to interview you. Jarret announces. What time? Sarah used to group of journalists at interviews, and her tired mind attempts to plan. Jarrett’s response is less than popular with the actress. One after another. We need to give them individually a different idea of you. It makes them feel they are important, an essential thing if you want a good story from the London press. Sarah’s response to this is the expected one. I’ll be exhausted. Jarret demandingly insists, There are only thirty-seven interviews. Your English is poor; most of them have poor French. If you make a gaffe, I will translate to ensure they understand what you intended to say. It will be tiring, but you will get coverage in every newspaper, even outside London." Sarah, incredulous, sinks back into depression. "I can see I will be working even harder than usual these six weeks. Thirty-seven you said? Jarret pulls Sarah up, Yes, you will work harder, but after these six weeks, you will be the most famous actress in the world."

"My son Maurice arrives tomorrow; it will make me feel better. I hope I will have time to talk to him in your schedule? the emphasis in Sarah’s words has sufficient comic intensity to ensure Jarret is confident of her compliance. I have promised them only a few minutes each, with the chance for more if they are interesting."

The following week is one of ceaseless activity and controversy for Sarah. The Comedie’s evening and matinee performances are added to by evening soiree performances accompanied by Sarah’s good friend Hortense Damain. Edward Jarret is organising the exhibition of Sarah’s paintings and sculptures on Picadilly. The arrival of the exhibits and gallery arrangement gives her constant distractions. The never-ending stream of social invitations overwhelms her, so she can’t reply to them all. The thought of securing the commission for Bastien-Lepage is forgotten in the rush of events until Sarah sees the Prince of Wales in his box watching her evening performance of Phaedra a week after the opening night at the Gaiety Theatre.

The performance ends with a curtain call with Worms holding her close to stop her from collapsing, increasing Sarah’s impatience to talk to the Prince. The actor affectionately helps her to her loge. The performance has been in half delirium under the influence of an opiate potion taken to relieve fever. Politely and, in some cases, impolitely, she brushes aside the notables that have come backstage to meet the actors. She claims exhaustion; her secretary takes post at the door with orders to only allow the Prince to enter. Her ruse is revealed to the crowd when the Prince of Wales knocks and is immediately permitted entry.

Enter, Sarah, in mid cosmetic removal, wiping away her thin coating of face powder, turns expectantly to greet the Prince. The Parisian greeting of four kisses sets the scene: no bowing in this private company. "Phedre revealed. Under that thin film of cosmetics, you are looking quite exhausted. A wonderful performance, so intensely acted you stretched the nerves of everyone in the audience. By the look of it, you stretched yourself to breaking point. Sarah makes an immediate riposte to the Prince’s concern. My Rogue de Theatre hides many things from the audience, including the appearance of my exhaustion. But it cannot hide that I’m now so exhausted I’ve caught a cold. If only Bourgois were able to make a cosmetic that would hide that?" "Your cosmetician isn’t quite that good, I’m afraid. It would help if you rested then. Who can stand in for you?" the Prince knowing that the mention of a stand-in would change the conversation, if not inflaming Sarah, then at least turn her to a new topic.

"You missed the first week of our season. They said you went to Paris? Sarah’s question puts a silent end to speculation of a successor in her part. Yes, I had business to attend to do. Met with Gambetta. It was a quick trip to talk about something quite specific. And what might that have been, Bertie? a coquettish enquiring smile and familiarity allow him to understand he has no way of escape. Well, if you must know, I had to ask Gambetta and others what the French attitude would be to Princes Beatrice marrying Prince Louise Napoleon. My dear sister was quite taken with him, but I felt it would be inappropriate."

Sarah’s understanding of Gambetta prompts her response. No doubt, Gambetta was direct in telling you what he thought?. Yes, very, he said the Prince would be better dead, went so far as to say he wished him dead. When I informed him that the Prince had gone to the war in Zululand, he seemed to calm down. I take it the Republicans have enough to deal with at home. They finally defeated the Monarchists because of Henry VI’s stupidity about the flag. His wanting the fleur-de-lis and the white field restored as the National symbol was bound to lose him support, even from most Monarchists. But the threat of a Bonapartist resurgence was more powerful than ever until the news of the Prince’s death arrived. Now I must talk of something else; The Prince Imperial was a good friend; his death quite distresses me, let alone the sadness of Beatrice. Understanding the agitation the topic gives the Prince, Sarah grasps the moment to talk of something less political and more to her liking.

"The Prince Imperial’s death was a tragedy, happening only one day before our first performance in London. When he was about thirteen, I met him, a beautiful child in appearance and manner. As she ends on a sad note, the Prince keenly observes Sarah’s passage to her next topic. Bertie, you remember I talked with you in Paris about having Jules Bastien-Lepage paint your portrait? Have you thought more of it? His small portrait of his brother is at the Royal Academy exhibition. Did you see it? Sarah’s question brings the portrait at the Academy to Bertie’s mind. I had entirely forgotten about having him paint my portrait. The picture of his brother, I remember. What an impressive painting, almost as if the fellow was about to talk to you. Ah yes, I saw his portrait of you at the Paris Salon while I was there; what a masterpiece he has put your soul on canvas. But at present, I’m overwhelmed with official duties. Can you get him to come over, and I’ll try to fit him in for some sittings?"

Sarah immediately negates the idea of a few sittings being enough. "I and Emile, that is Jules's brother, both suffered through sixty sittings for those paintings; a couple of sittings wouldn’t be enough for him. But I’ll get him to come if he can afford the trip, as long as you think you will consent to sit for him. In thoughtful mode, the Prince replies, of course, I’ll think about it. Perhaps I could have him paint one of my friends to keep him busy? Carlo Pelligrini might be willing; I know he thought highly of the painting at the Royal Academy. Aware of Jules's lack of money, Sarah attempts to secure the trip financially without exposing his penury. Could that fund his stay in London?"

The Prince diplomatically does not answer. "Worms tells me you are very unpopular amongst the Comedie Societaires. You stay in your own accommodation, play at soirees with Damain, plan an art exhibition, and push Perrin and Got around as though you are the manager. What do you intend? Are you to leave the Comedie? Since meeting Sarah the previous year, the Prince has watched her erratic progress with a pleasing sense that she is uncontrollable. His own life is one of self-control in public, relieved by only occasional bouts of private abandon; her freedom of action is a pleasure for him to watch and encourage. Mr Jarret approached me in Paris earlier in the year to tour in America. I at first refused, but the public adoration in England is turning my head."

"As you know, my responsibilities to many people are expanding, and to pay for that is a great demand. The retainer the Comedie pays is not enough. For this tour, I have squeezed a cut of the takings from them, but in the end, I will have no choice but to form an independent theatre company, Sarah delights the Prince, whose official constraints make such life-changing decisions impossible. I do sometimes wish that I were able to be so personally driven. Your mixture of the irrational and deliberate planning sets you as a woman apart; only Ellen Terry seems almost comparable in England". The Prince muses to himself how wonderful it would be to have such independence while considering how constrained all his family are because of their roles.

"I have simply turned public scrutiny to my advantage. Yes, I’m special, but only because I act on my passions. You do the same when you can, but it can’t give you any credit with the public. Your reputation in Paris is certainly not something that would endear you at home? Strange, isn’t it how your rogue in Paris makes you so popular there. Sarah’s question is answered, not by the Prince but by a loud and persistent knock on the door, followed by Perrin pushing into the room in obvious annoyance. What are you doing? There are a dozen or more notables out here wishing to meet you! Sarah’s equally annoyed retort, I’m speaking with the Prince of Wales!. Good evening, Prince, a shallow bow accompanies Perrin’s acknowledgement of an old acquaintance. Perrin’s annoyance immediately turns back on Sarah; while turning to leave, he nods to the Prince and throws up his hands in exasperation, deliberately making his exit comical to lighten the effect. The Prince is coming every night. Mr Jarret tells me the people outside are important to you. They are all Americans. You can tell me what that means later. Now get dressed and get out there!. Perrin stops as the Prince says, Perrin, I need to talk to you about an idea I have to publicise the Comedie Francaise's participation in the Fancy Fete. I’m keen to help raise as much money as possible for the French Hospital in London. Mayer, I believe, will also want to have some say in what happens. Perhaps tomorrow after the performance, we can meet?"

The Prince assents to ending his visit with Sarah, amused, disappointed and playful "You have to admit he is a