Diderot's Portrait Sitting
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Diderot’s Portrait Sitting Elena Russo THE NAKED PHILOSOPHE AND THE SHAMELESS PRUSSIAN: DIDEROT’S PORTRAIT SITTING n one of the most intriguing passages of his Salon of 1767, Denis Diderot Irecounts at length his dealings with the Prussian-Polish painter Anna- Dorothea Lisiewska-Therbusch. Recently arrived in Paris, she had gained a solid reputation as a portrait and history painter at the court of Frederick II, at the elegant and libertine court of Duke Carl Eugen in Stuttgart, and at the court of the Elector Palatine in Mannheim. In January 1767, Therbusch was in Paris, eager to leave her mark on the most prestigious art academy of Europe. It was then that she ran into Diderot and into trouble. That trouble proved to be of the lasting kind. Diderot’s portrayal of the artist and her work was such that it gave Therbusch an unsavory immortal- ity. Indeed, a peculiar reincarnation of her has resurfaced in a recent play by the French-speaking German playwright Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt entitled Le Libertin, which was turned into a homonymous flm by Gabriel Aghion (2000).1 Both works portray Therbusch, played by Fanny Ardant in the flm, as an artistic sham, a seamy seductress, and a swindler. Under the pretext of painting his portrait, Therbusch seduces Diderot into posing nude for her and then engages with him in a game of sexual banter that extends over a sequence of sittings that are repeatedly disrupted by various incidents and repeatedly adjourned. The portrait turns out to be a rough sketch of his private parts. However, Therbusch’s real intent is not so much to seduce the philosophe as to steal from him a collection of valuable paintings that he is about to ship to Catherine of Russia. Diderot uncovers the scheme and exposes the charm- ing impostor. The play predictably ends with a romp in bed, with Therbusch fnally allowing herself to be tempted by Diderot, who, of course, is nothing if not irresistible (a young and implausibly ft Vincent Perez plays him in the flm). Both the play and the flm are generous servings of that kind of fatu- ous fuff that contemporary audiences often associate with pre- revolutionary libertinage and with the ethos of the aristocratic lifestyle. 1. Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt, Le Libertin (Paris: Albin Michel, 1997); Le Libertin, dir. Gabriel Aghion, perf. Vincent Perez, Fanny Ardant, Josiane Balasko, Michel Serrault, and Audrey Tautou, Pathé, 2000. The Romanic Review Volume 101 Number 4 © The Trustees of Columbia University RomanicReview_101i04.indb 709 3/19/12 12:34 PM 710 Elena Russo It should not come as too much of a surprise that the actual story of the relationship between Diderot and Therbusch was infnitely more interesting and fraught. What I am hoping to show here is that Therbusch is the focal point around which revolve a great deal of unspoken and perhaps unspeakable concerns and fantasies on Diderot’s part. In exploring the meandering, con- tradictory, and at times unbalanced response of Diderot toward Therbusch, I would like to highlight on the one hand his profound and very personal anxi- ety about the woman artist’s gaze as a vehicle for desire and knowledge—on the other, his ambivalent feelings toward female sexual education, in particular his own daughter’s. Mme Terbouche, as Diderot calls her, was an adventurous and ambitious artist. She had been trained, like her sister and brother, by her father, the portrait painter Georg Lisiewski (1674–1751), and later by Antoine Pesne in Potsdam. At the age of forty, with the consent of her husband, she left him and their three grown children in Berlin in order to further her career at the courts of Stuttgart, Mannheim, and Potsdam. Unlike French women paint- ers, who were limited by enforced proprieties to working on still lifes and portraits, Anna- Dorothea Therbusch painted in a variety of genres that were forbidden to women, such as mythological scenes, mostly in a rococo style infuenced by Coypel, Lancret, and Watteau. She also produced genre scenes in the manner of Gerard Dou, whose infuence may be felt in some of her remarkable self- portraits that often show her framed by a stone window, sur- rounded by the emblems of her art, a palette and brushes, as well as books. As Patricia Crown has noted, Therbusch often fashions herself through masculine attributes, such as a scarlet velvet robe and a high-necked linen shirt typical of the learned professions. She often leans on a portfolio of drawings, thus claiming for herself the creative and cerebral activity of composition that was traditionally associated with masculinity (as opposed to color, which belonged to the realm of the sensual and the feminine, or to material craftsmanship). Prominent in her portraits are books and a monocle, a kind of trademark of hers. It is not only a sign of her failing eyesight and an explicit indication of her aging, which she does not shy away from representing, but also a metonymy of her penetrating gaze.2 In the most famous of her self- portraits, her body is highlighted by a con- spicuous white satin gown, its luminescent folds standing out against a dark background where no source of light is visible, a morceau de bravoure that sig- nals her virtuosity. She is sitting holding an open book in one hand; her head, covered by a gauzy muslin shawl, is turned toward the viewer. She is looking 2. Patricia Crown, “Eighteenth-Century Images of the Aged Woman Artist,” The Maxine Christopher Schutz Award and Lecture for Distinguished Teaching (Columbia: U of Missouri P, 2003) n. pag. RomanicReview_101i04.indb 710 3/19/12 12:34 PM Diderot’s Portrait Sitting 711 Fig. 1. Therbusch, Anna- Dorothea (1721–1782). Self- Portrait, 1776–1777. Oil on canvas, 153,5 × 118 cm. Inv. 1925. Photo: Joerg P. Anders. Location: Gemaeldegalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Germany. Photo credit: Bildarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz / Art Resource, NY (ART318967) RomanicReview_101i04.indb 711 3/19/12 12:34 PM 712 Elena Russo straight at the beholder through her monocle, in a somewhat challenging way, with the full impact of a forceful, self- assured presence. In a self-portrait from 1761, she is wearing her hair loosely tied, unpow- dered and fowing on her shoulders in a manner reminiscent of the personif- cation of “Painting” in Cesare Ripa’s Iconology; she is holding a palette and brushes; but her shoulders, bared by a dark robe falling off, the transparent camisole drawing attention to her skin, and most of all her unusual, sidelong, enticing smile, all underline the representation of a woman who appears self- assured both as a sexual being and as an artist. However, her talents, experience, ambition, and self-assurance did not ensure her success in the competitive and sexist Parisian art world. Even though she offcially became a member of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture on February 28, 1767—one of a handful of women to be admitted to the academy in the eighteenth century—she was received as a genre painter and not as a history painter as she had hoped. The mythological reception piece she had presented, Jupiter Transformed into Pan, Surprising the Sleeping Antiope, was rejected on grounds of obscenity. Moreover, she had to fend off slanderous accusations that she had secretly enlisted the services of a male helper (a teinturier as the expression went), a charge that was commonly brought up against women artists (Diderot had raised it against Marie-Thérèse Vien, the wife of the painter Joseph- Marie Vien and herself a member of the academy; it would later be invoked against Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun). But in an unusual move, Therbusch pursued legal action against her accusers and asked for the judicial interrogation of the eyewitnesses who had watched her work in her studio.3 Diderot did not mention that incident explicitly, but he portrayed Therbusch as a troublemaker, a spendthrift, and a hysteric. Yet he also presented himself as her patron and supporter. Indeed, the philosophe had been playing for some time the role of art broker, that is, of go-between putting artists in touch with wealthy patrons. Within the framework of his col- laboration with Fredéric Melchior Grimm, Diderot consigned his critique of the Salon artworks to the Correspondance littéraire, the manuscript newslet- ter distributed among a few European potentates and potential buyers, which counted Catherine of Russia as one of its recipients. It was there that he pub- lished the Salon of 1767, which contained his narrative of Therbusch’s stay in Paris. In 1772, when the Hermitage Museum acquired the splendid collection of Antoine Crozat, baron de Thiers, who had died two years earlier (which had been put together by his uncle Pierre, the famous fnancier, collector, and patron), negotiations were conducted through Diderot himself. 3. See Crown. RomanicReview_101i04.indb 712 3/19/12 12:34 PM Diderot’s Portrait Sitting 713 Fig. 2. Therbusch, Anna- Dorothea. Self-Portrait, 1761. Oil on canvas, 66 × 49 cm. (Inv. 1104). Courtesy of Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart. RomanicReview_101i04.indb 713 3/19/12 12:34 PM 714 Elena Russo Therbusch apparently turned to Diderot when she failed to attract the atten- tion of the king and the court. In an exchange between the Marquis de Mari- gny, the brother of Mme de Pompadour and the Directeur des Bâtiments du Roi, and Charles- Nicholas Cochin, his advisor and the secretary of the Acadé- mie Royale, the latter praised Therbusch as a curiosity worth seeing because she showed “a talent far above what one might expect from a woman” and had dared to “paint history and the live [male] body like a man.” We will soon get to the implications of that remark.