#it’s by Louis ducis

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Louis Ducis (French, 1775-1847) Sappho Recalled to Life by the Charm of Music, ca.1811 Norton Simon Museum

#Louis Ducis #French #french art #1700s #sappho #art #fine art #mediterranean #european art #europa #classical art #europe #european #oil painting #fine arts #cradle of civilization #sappho recalled to life by the charm of music #1800s #southern europe #painting #blonde #brunette #brunet #mythology #mythological art

[isthenapoleoncute]

Rating: Cute!

This Napoleon is surrounded by chicks! Contrary to Napoleons’ reputations for stoicism, they tend to have a fondness for children. This Napoleon is even cradling a future Napoleon III on its knee, very cute!

#napoleon #napoleon iii #is the napoleon cute? #cute #it’s by Louis ducis//

[105nt]

Ink Black Heart research dump

Chapter Six - Epigraph

Properzia Rossi by Felicia Hemans

Felicia Hemans is the author of the openings “The boy stood on the burning deck” (from Casabianca) and “The stately homes of England” (from The Homes of England) neither of which I like at all, but Properzia Rossi is a doozy. The thoughts of supposedly heart-broken sculptor Properzia de’ Rossi (1490-1530), a self-taught artist from Bologna, famous for carving fruit stones amongst other things, as she creates her last sculpture. It is possibly based on this painting by Louis Ducis (1775-1847) which “represents her showing her last work, a basso-relievo of Ariadne, to a Roman Knight, the object of her affection, who regards it with indifference”.

She does seem a little scantily dressed for chisel work.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Properzia_de%27_Rossi

http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/hemans/records/rossi.html

I have had a really good time finding all this out and I have learned two new words: ekphrasis =  a vivid, often dramatic, verbal description of a visual work of art, either real or imagined, and caesura =  a pause near the middle of a line of poetry.

 It’s long ...

Tell me no more, no more

Of my soul's lofty gifts! Are they not vain

To quench its haunting thirst for happiness?

Have I not lov'd, and striven, and fail'd to bind

One true heart unto me, whereon my own

Might find a resting-place, a home for all

Its burden of affections? I depart,

Unknown, tho' Fame goes with me; I must leave

The earth unknown. Yet it may be that death

Shall give my name a power to win such tears

As would have made life precious.

I.

ONE dream of passion and of beauty more!

And in its bright fulfillment let me pour

My soul away! Let earth retain a trace

Of that which lit my being, tho' its race

Might have been loftier far.–Yet one more dream!

From my deep spirit one victorious gleam

Ere I depart! For thee alone, for thee!

May this last work, this farewell triumph be,–

Thou, lov'd so vainly! I would leave enshrined

Something immortal of my heart and mind,

That yet may speak to thee when I am gone,

Shaking thine inmost bosom with a tone

Of lost affection;–something that may prove

What she hath been, whose melancholy love

On thee was lavish'd; silent pang and tear,

And fervent song, that gush'd when none were near,

And dream by night, and weary thought by day,

Stealing the brightness from her life away,–

While thou–Awake! not yet within me die,

Under the burden and the agony

Of this vain tenderness–my spirit, wake!

Ev'n for thy sorrowful affection's sake,

Live! in thy work breathe out!–that he may yet

Feeling sad mastery there, perchance regret

Thine unrequited gift.

II.

It comes,–the power

Within me born, flows back; my fruitless dower

That could not win me love. Yet once again

I greet it proudly, with its rushing train

Of glorious images:–they throng–they press–

A sudden joy lights up my loneliness,–

I shall not perish all! The bright work grows

Beneath my hand, unfolding, as a rose,

Leaf after leaf, to beauty; line by line,

I fix my thought, heart, soul, to burn, to shine,

Thro' the pale marble's veins. It grows–and now

I give my own life's history to thy brow,

Forsaken Ariadne! thou shalt wear

My form, my lineaments; but oh! more fair,

Touched into lovelier being by the glow

 Which in me dwells, as by the summer-light

All things are glorified. From thee my wo

 Shall yet look beautiful to meet his sight,

When I am pass'd away. Thou art the mould,

Wherein I pour the fervent thoughts, th' untold,

The self-consuming! Speak to him of me,

Thou, the deserted by the lonely sea,

With the soft sadness of thine earnest eye,

Speak to him, lorn one, deeply, mournfully,

Of all my love and grief! Oh! could I throw

Into thy frame a voice, a sweet, and low,

And thrilling voice of song!–when he came nigh,

To send the passion of its melody

Thro' his pierced bosom–on its tones to bear

My life's deep feeling as the southern air

Wafts the faint myrtle's breath,–to rise, to swell,

To sink away in accents of farewell,

Winning but one, one gush of tears, whose flow

Surely my parted spirit yet might know,

If love be strong as death!

III.

Now fair thou art,

Thou form, whose life is of my burning heart!

Yet all the vision that within me wrought,

 I cannot make thee! Oh! I might have given

Birth to creations of far nobler thought,

 I might have kindled, with the fire of heaven,

Things not of such as die! But I have been

Too much alone; a heart, whereon to lean,

With all these deep affections that o'erflow

My aching soul, and find no shore below,

An eye to be my star; a voice to bring

Hope o'er my path like sounds that breathe of spring,

These are denied me–dreamt of still in vain,–

Therefore my brief aspirings from the chain,

Are ever but as some wild fitful song,

Rising triumphantly, to die ere long

In dirge-like echoes.

IV.

Yet the world will see

Little of this, my parting work, in thee,

 Thou shalt have fame! Oh, mockery! give the reed

From storms a shelter,–give the drooping vine

Something round which its tendrils may entwine,–

 Give the parch'd flower a rain-drop, and the meed

Of love's kind words to woman! Worthless fame!

That in his bosom wins not for my name

Th' abiding place it ask'd! Yet how my heart,

In its own fairy world of song and art,

Once beat for praise!–Are those high longings o'er?

That which I have been can I be no more?–

Never, oh! never more; tho' still thy sky

Be blue as then, my glorious Italy!

And tho' the music, whose rich breathings fill

Thine air with soul, be wandering past me still,

And tho' the mantle of thy sunlight streams

Unchang'd on forms instinct with poet-dreams;

Never, oh! never more! Where'er I move,

The shadow of this broken-hearted love

Is on me and around! Too well they know,

 Whose life is all within, too soon and well,

When there the blight hath settled;–but I go

 Under the silent wings of Peace to dwell;

From the slow wasting, from the lonely pain,

The inward burning of those words–"in vain,"

 Sear'd on the heart–I go. 'Twill soon be past,

Sunshine, and song, and bright Italian heaven,

 And thou, oh! thou, on whom my spirit cast

Unvalued wealth,–who know'st not what was given

In that devotedness,–the sad, and deep,

And unrepaid–farewell! If I could weep

Once, only once, belov'd one! on thy breast,

Pouring my heart forth ere I sink to rest!

But that were happiness, and unto me

Earth's gift is fame. Yet I was form'd to be

So richly bless'd! With thee to watch the sky,

Speaking not, feeling but that thou wert nigh:

With thee to listen, while the tones of song

Swept ev'n as part of our sweet air along,

To listen silently;–with thee to gaze

On forms, the deified of olden days,–

This had been joy enough;–and hour by hour,

From its glad well-springs drinking life and power,

How had my spirit soar'd, and made its fame

 A glory for thy brow!–Dreams, dreams!–the fire

Burns faint within me. Yet I leave my name–

 As a deep thrill may linger on the lyre

When its full chords are hush'd–awhile to live,

And one day haply in thy heart revive

Sad thoughts of me:–I leave it, with a sound,

A spell o'er memory, mournfully profound–

I leave it, on my country's air to dwell,–

Say proudly yet–"'Twas hers who lov'd me well! "

#research dump #the ink black heart #epigraphs #robert galbraith #felicia hemans #poetry #properzia rossi #properzia de' rossi #louis ducis

[leitoracomcompanhia]

Luis XVIII

"Todas as pessoas sensatas concordavam que a era das revoluções fora de uma vez para sempre encerrada por Luís XVIII, cognominado o imortal autor da Carta."

Victor Hugo, "Os Miseráveis"; pintura de Louis Ducis. Victor Hugo, que na adolescência apoiara a Restauração dos Bourbons era, desde 1849, "liberal, socialista, democrata e republicano".

#Victor Hugo #Os Miseráveis #Louis Ducis #Louis XVIII

[thewaspandthefig]

Bianca Cappello Fleeing with her lover Francesco de Medici

Louis Ducis (1775-1847)

#louis ducis #art

[gardenofkore]

Et quia solum Guilielmum Capuanorum Principem habebat superstitem, veritus ne eumdem conditione humanae fragilitatis amitteret, Sibiliam sororem Ducis Burgundiae duxit uxorem, quae non multo post Salerni mortua est, et apud Caveam est sepulta. Tertio Beatricem filiam Comitis de Reteste in uxoris accepit, de qua filiam habuit, quem Constantiam appellavit.

Chronicon Romualdi II, archiepiscopi Salernitani, p. 16

Beatrice was born around 1135 in the county of Rethel (northern France) from Gunther (also know as Ithier) de Vitry, earl of Rethel, and Beatrice of Namur.

On her mother’s side, Beatrice descended from Charlemagne (through his son, Louis the Pious), while on the paternal side she was a grandniece of Baldwin II King of Jerusalem (her paternal grandmother Matilda, titular Countess of Rethel, was the King’s younger sister). The Counts of Rethel were also vassals of the powerful House of Champagne, known for its successful marriage politics (Count Theobald IV of Blois-Champagne’s daughter, Isabelle, would marry in 1143 Duke Roger III of Apulia, eldest son of King Roger II of Sicily).

In 1151, Beatrice married this same Roger. The King of Sicily was at his third marriage at this point. His first wife had been Elvira, daughter of King Alfonso VI the Brave of León and Castile and of Galicia, who bore him six children (five sons and one daughter). However, when four of his sons (Roger, Tancred, Alphonse and the youngest, Henry) died before him, leaving only William as his heir, Roger II must have feared for his succession. In 1149, the King then married Sibylla, daughter of Duke Hugh II of Burgundy. She bore him a son, Henry (named after his late older brother), and two years later died of childbirth complications giving birth to a stillborn son. As this second Henry died young too, Roger thought about marrying for a third (and hopefully last) time.

It is possible that Roger’s choice of his third wife had been influenced by the future bride’s family ties with the Crusader royalties as Beatrice was related with both Queen Melisende of Jerusalem and the Queen’s niece Constance of Hauteville, ruling Princess of Antioch. Constance was also a first cousin once removed of Roger, who had (unsuccessfully) tried to snatch the Antiochian principality from her when her father Bohemond II was killed in battle 1130, leaving his two years old daughter as heir.

Beatrice bore Roger only a daughter, Constance, who was born in Palermo on November 2nd 1154. This baby girl (who would one day become Queen of Sicily) never knew her father as he died on February 26th.

Nothing certain is known about her widowed life, although we can suppose she took care of her only daughter. Beatrice died in Palermo on March 30th 1185, living enough to see  Constance being betrothed to Emperor Frederick Barbarossa’s son, Henry.

The body of the Dowager Queen was laid to rest in the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene, together with her predecessor, Elvira, and her step-children, Henry, Tancred, Alphonse and Roger. Through her daughter, Beatrice would become Emperor Frederick II’s grandmother.

Sources

Cronica di Romualdo Guarna, arcivescovo Salernitano Chronicon Romualdi II, archiepiscopi Salernitani Versione di G. del Re, con note e dilucidazione dello stesso

Garofalo Luigi, Tabularium regiae ac imperialis capellae collegiatae divi Petri in regio panormitano palatio Ferdinandi 2. regni Utriusque Siciliae regis

Hayes Dawn Marie, Roger II of Sicily. Family, Faith, and Empire in the Medieval Mediterranean World

Houben Hubert, Roger II Of Sicily: A Ruler Between East And West

SICILY/NAPLES: COUNTS & KINGS

Walter Ingeborg, BEATRICE di Rethel, regina di Sicilia, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 7

#historicwomendaily #women #history #women in history #historical women #House of Hauteville #Roger II of Sicily #Beatrice of Rethel #norman swabian sicily #costanza i #people of sicily #women of sicily #myedit #historyedit

[mahgnib]

Louis Ducis, “Sappho Recalled to Life Through the Charm of Music”, 1811

#art history #19th century #french art

[rokindle]

Adevărul acestei lumi e moartea

 Mai rău e că te întrebi mereu cum vei găsi a doua zi forța necesară să continui să faci ceea ce ai făcut și în ajun și faci de atâta timp, unde vei găsi forța pentru acele demersuri imbecile, mii de proiecte care nu duc nicăieri, ca să scapi de copleșitoare nevoie, tentative mereu eșuate și toate pentru a te convinge că destinul e de neînvins, că trebuie să te prăbușești în spatele zidului în fiecare seară, zdrobit de frica zilei de mâine, mereu mai precară, mai sordidă.  Mai vine și vârsta, poate, trădătoarea, și ne amenință cu ce-i mai rău. N-ai destulă muzică în tine să faci viața să danseze, asta e. Toată tinerețea ți s-a dus să moară de acum la capătul lumii, în liniște, în adevăr. Și unde să te mai duci oare, dacă nu mai ai în tine suficient delir adevărat? Adevărul, iată o agonie fără sfârșit. Adevărul acestei lumi e moartea. Trebuie să alegi, să mori sau să minți. Eu n-am putut niciodată să mă sinucid.  Louis-Ferdinand Celine - Călătorie la capătul nopții  https://www.cititoramator.ro/2024/03/adevarul-acestei-lumi-e-moartea.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[that-love-is-all-there-is]

“Orphée Et Euridice (Orpheus and Euridice)” by Louis Ducis, with words from "Animals" by Frank O'Hara

[venicepearl]

Properzia de' Rossi (c. 1490 Bologna – 1530 Bologna) was a ground-breaking female Italian Renaissance sculptor who lived a transgressive life. She was the only woman to feature as a headline artist in Vasari's Lives of the Artists. According to Vasari, she taught herself to carve by working with peach-stones. Right at the end of her life, she was sought out by the Pope Clement VII, who unfortunately found her dead.

#Properzia de' Rossi #Louis Ducis #XV century #XVI century #paintings #art #arte #women in art

[joachimnapoleon]

Caroline Murat, by Jean-Louis Ducis (1810).

#Caroline Bonaparte #Caroline Murat #art #paintings #Jean-Louis Ducis #1810

[justineportraits]

Jean Louis Ducis  Sappho recalled to life by the charm of music    1811

#jean louis ducis #sappho

[jeannepompadour]

Louis XVIII and the French royal family assisting at the return of the troops of the Spanish expedition from the balcony of the Tuileries by Louis Ducis, 1824

#louis ducis #19th c. france #19th century #mdp19th c. #family #genre art #france #1824 #1820s

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Louis Ducis - Orpheus and Euridice; and Dibulade, 1826.

#Louis Ducis #Orpheus and Euridice

[shannonselin]

Caroline Bonaparte Murat, Queen of Naples, by Louis Ducis, circa 1810

Napoleon’s sister Caroline Bonaparte Murat was ambitious and enterprising. Although Caroline and her husband, Joachim Murat, owed their wealth and their crowns to Napoleon, when it looked like Napoleon was going to be defeated in 1814, they allied with Napoleon’s enemies. French Foreign Minister Talleyrand wrote that Caroline “had the head of Cromwell upon the body of a well-shaped woman. Born with much grandeur of character, strong mind, and sublime ideas; possessing a subtle and delicate wit, together with amiability and grace, seductive beyond expression; she was deficient in nothing but in the art of concealing her desire to rule; and when she failed in attaining her end, it was because she sought to reach it too quickly.” For details about this fascinating Bonaparte sibling, see “Caroline Bonapare Murat, Napoleon’s Treasonous Sister.”

#caroline bonaparte #caroline murat #murat #bonaparte #napoleonic

[starphyshishish]

Inktober 2020 Day 27 Music

References:

Characters: Hades (Supergiant Games) - Orpheus and Eurydice

Song: Good Riddance, Darren Korb (ft. Ashley Barrett)

Pose: Orphée Et Euridice, Louis Ducis, 1825

https://www.artrenewal.org/artists/louis-ducis/1567

Piano Arrangement: IONIC Music

4 more to go....

Edit: Btw, made a mistake in the notes and it is marked with red. Supposed to be at D and F.

#inktober2020 #inktober #hades #orpheus #eurydice #darren korb #good riddance