Lost But Not Forgotten

The French frigate Reine de France pulled up to the docks in Philadelphia and offloaded three large wooden crates. Loaded onto a freight wagon, they were taken to the home of the French Minister, Anne-Cesar de la Cuzerne. There, the first two crates were carefully opened to reveal full-sized portraits, one of King Louis XVI and the other of his spouse, Marie Antoinette. The third crate contained elaborate frames for the paintings.

During the Revolutionary War, Ben Franklin, in his capacity as Ambassador to France, had asked the King for the favor of Royal Portraits to be given to the new nation. At the time, the United States was desperate for French assistance in fighting the British. While the King didn’t particularly like the idea of a independent democracy, he loved the idea of any country fighting the British, so he generously gifted the revolution with muskets, black powder, and a small loan (at 5% interest), and sent a French fleet to patrol off the American coast. Without this French assistance, it is doubtful that the American Revolution would have been successful.

A gift of Royal Portraits was a big deal: it was considered an important diplomatic symbol, and while the revolutionary war was being fought, the King didn’t think the United States was important enough to rate such a gift. On the other hand, several years after the war had ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris, the King decided it was the time to honor the request because, by sending the paintings, the King was not so subtly reminding the new nation about the promises made to the French people (including that 5% loan).

It was obvious that what Louis wanted was a tiny, little, weak United States, hemmed in by the British to the North, French Louisiana to the West, and Spanish Florida to the South—in other words, a country just big enough to make payments on that loan while staying a thorn in the side of the British.

In the United States, a large number of people no longer wanted either the paintings or to be reminded of their obligations to a French monarch. For two years, the paintings remained in the French Minister’s house and became something of a tourist attraction, as a steady stream of people came to gawk at them. Finally, the two portraits were hung in the government’s offices, first in New York, then in Philadelphia, and then (finally), in the capitol in Washington, in 1800.

The two paintings were actually copies of existing paintings. The original of the King’s portrait was done by Antoine-Francoise Collet and the portrait of Marie Antoinette was done by her close friend, Élizabeth Louise Viegée le Brun. Similar copies of the portrait of the Queen had been given to other countries, but only the original remains today.

By 1812, the United States was at war with the British again, in perhaps one of the dumbest wars ever fought. We were mad that both the British and the French—continually at war with each other—had each forbidden us to trade with their opposite—effectively eliminating all trade with Europe. Going to war with Britain over it was stupid, but we were a young country and had to learn all our lessons the hard way.

The hardest of these lessons occurred August 24, 1814, when the British marched into Washington, and started setting fire to all the government buildings…including the capitol and the White House. We all know the story of Dolly Madison and her slave, Paul Jennings, saving the Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington (the image that appears on the one-dollar bill). What is not as widely known is that the residents of Washington, realizing that the American troops had abandoned the city, seized the opportunity to loot the government buildings. Perhaps they reasoned that it was better that the national booty be grabbed by Americans instead of the British.

Or, maybe, the British stole the portraits, since we know for a fact that the Redcoats did their own share of looting. After setting the town on fire, the Royal Navy sailed to Bermuda with their spoils, included four paintings of King George III and Queen Charlotte, a grandfather clock and President James Madison's personal government receipt book. Today, the paintings hang in the Bermuda government buildings, while the grandfather clock is still held by the descendants of one of the naval officers.

Officially, the last time the two French royal portraits were seen was just before the British troops arrived. By the time they left, the capitol building was destroyed, along with anything that was left inside it. What happened to the two portraits?

Officially, the government decided that the portraits had been destroyed in the fire. Unofficially, rumors started circulating almost immediately that the paintings had been removed before the British arrived. Over the years, several items the locals had stolen found their way back into the newly rebuilt capitol.

In 1850, a Southern newspaper reported that an unnamed plantation owner had purchased the two paintings for his home. Two decades later, a New York newspaper revealed that the paintings were being sold privately by a dealer in town. Similar rumors continued to circulate well into the Twentieth Century.

The portraits probably were destroyed. But, if you are ever in a garage sale and someone is selling a painting of a woman with a widescreen television under her dress, pick it up for me!