The angel in my house, the alluring Catherine Stephens, countess of Essex, painted by Sir Martin Archer Shee, PRA.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. Do you believe in fate? Do you believe that there are people on this planet we are meant to meet? That we will meet… no matter how unlikely that seems at this moment? When I contemplate the matter objectively as my training as a social scientist demands, I come to the obvious, the expected, the empirical conclusion that the idea of fate is superstitious hokus-pokus… then a chance encounter with Catherine Stephens occurs and challenges my logic, for surely this is kismet indeed.

Some background.

I am that most uncomfortable and difficult of beings, a connoisseur; that is a person who is engaged in the strenuous, never-ending search for rapture; a state which occurs whenever I see a thing and know that thing must be mine, cannot go anywhere but to me… for my well-being, the very completion of myself depends on my acquiring it.

Every connoisseur knows this unsettled state for each of us goes through it, especially (it seems) when money is in short supply, possibly due to having only recently been so touched and agitated… by something else.

But there’s the rub. Whenever one enters this condition, it is as if for the very first time, so intense, so unsettling are the pangs. And this can happen anywhere at anytime. Be warned.

In the matter of Catherine Stephens they occurred as I perused the pages of the Dorotheum auction catalog for The Prince Kinski Sale, February 28, 2012. Lot 96. Given my interest in the nobility and royal families of Europe, it was inevitable I should consult this catalog… and perhaps find something; but by no means inevitable that thing would be a portrait of a lovely actress and singer elevated into the highest echelon of the English aristocracy. Yet just as Catherine Stephens captivated and in 1838 married the octogenarian fifth earl of the ninth creation of Essex, the Right Honorable George Capell-Coningsby (1757-1839) … so she captivated me… and so (I warn you) she will captivate you, too.

Some facts about Miss Stephens.

Catherine Stephens (1794-1882) was the daughter of Edward Stephens, a carver and gilder in Park Street, Grosvenor Square, London. Theirs was a musical family… and her musical talent was encouraged. Thus, on 23 September 1813 she appeared at Covent Garden as Mandane in the opera “Artaxerxes” by Thomas Arne (1710-1778) . He was the celebrated composer who wrote “Rule, Britannia!” and even a version of “God Save The King”, which became the British national anthem. She was in very good company indeed…

… and (I warned you) she enchanted them all. The aria that launched her career was  “The soldier tir’d of war’s alarms”, and it was theater magic.

You’ll want to hear it. And you can. Go to any search engine where you can hear Joan Sutherland’s 1960 performance. Now imagine the lovely very young Catherine’s candlelit debut and the dulcet tones which made each member of the restive audience believe — no, not just believe but know — she was singing just for them. That was always to be her secret…

That quality was instantly apparent in this circa 1838 portrait by Sir Martin Archer Shee (1769-1850). This was the most sympathetic face I had ever seen. And it was instantly clear that he, too, for all that he was consummate master of his craft, knight of the realm and President of the Royal Academy (PRA) had felt the power of her serene radiance.  Thus perforce did I stop to regard.

Most pictures of grand ladies, particularly titled ladies, say, “Look at me and be honored to do so. For I am worth the viewing.” Such pictures may awe and dazzle… but they do not warm or beckon us. They are about the subject, not the viewer. But Shee’s inviting portrait makes you feel certain about your reception, certain she wants to meet you and will be good to you. Above all that she will be good to you…. for that is what we all need.  And if that quality is immediately apparent in the sitter it is not just because Shee is a master, supremely confident in his skill, but because it was there for all the world to see in the lady herself.

Hard times for the Kinskis. Hard times for the painting.

To understand the fate of this picture you must understand something of the noble families of Mitteleuropa, families which were the foundation of the Austro- Hungarian empire. When it fell in 1918 families like the Kinskis lost the fruits of their hundreds of years of advancement. Their lives ceased to be glamorous but rather one lawsuit after another, largely futile attempts to regain property — and self-esteem. Throughout the declension of their lives and fortunes, the princes Kinski kept this picture. And it was in the old prince’s drawing room when he died. It was, remember, always comforting…. even when its condition was dire… as it was when I saw it and asked Simon Gillespie to give me his opinion.

Miss Stephens charms Mr. Gillespie of Cleveland Street.

London England-based Simon is my chosen conservator, the man who has restored over 30 of my pictures and upon whose informed opinion I rely, picture after superbly restored picture. As much a master of his craft as Arne and Shee in theirs, he, like them, felt the enduring charm of Catherine Stephens and wanted to restore the picture as much for her sake as for mine.

Thus he and his talented staff set to their important work, removing the dirt of time and poor maintenance, old varnishes and over paint applied by less careful and discerning hands. When this was finished, the now pristine canvass yielded a considerable secret using radiology, namely that Shee had originally positioned the sitter quite differently, for a full frontal pose with both shoulders visible. But as Shee painted he came to see his subject better and divine the source of her undeniable allure. And so he started again, his flamboyant technique very apparent in the repositioned result that captivates … and makes such an entrancing vision and desirable painting.

This is the image not just of one particular woman but of what the Victorians wanted from Woman in general, kindness, courtesy, sweetness of face and of manner, a willing ear, sympathetic at all times, generous of spirit — in short the celestial ideal advanced by Coventry Patmore (1823-1896) in his important poem “The Angel in the House” written in stages from 1854-1862.  It was an image that swept the world..

“Now she was there! Within her face/Humility and dignity/ Were met in a most sweet embrace/She seem’d expressly sent below/ To teach our erring minds to see/ The rhythmic change of life’s swift flow/ As part of still eternity.”

This is why this portrait of a lady and exalted countess is so important. You see, it makes clear what Woman may choose to be and of her profound significance in our often sore afflicted and troubled lives. I know, for when in my own life such troubles emerge, as troubles can do, I look up at this soothing, welcoming image now here before me in Cambridge and find comfort, peace and the kindness we all need.

The sound that says love. Applause, applause, applause!’

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. This article is long overdue. It will be read with avidity, total agreement, and a rain of kudos for me from anyone who writes, sings, plays, paints, acts, mimes, speaks, or does deeds of daring- do on the flying trapeze. All of us, every single one of us, not only relishes the recognition of applause, not only craves it right down to the last clap, but lives for it… as the one essential element we must have to induce us to give of our best, time after time.
For the incidental music to today’s article I have selected the opera “Paride e Elena” (1770) of Christof Willibald von Gluck, particularly the aria “O del mio dolce ardor”. Here’s why: Gluck was the music teacher of Marie Antoinette, before she became queen of France (1774) and a figure of controversy and tragedy. Of all the musicians she might have studied with, she loved Gluck — and this aria — the best.
And so, when queen of France and of Navarre, she wanted to give him and his audacious works the benefit of her patronage. Towards this end, she introduced him to the disapproving, uncomprehending, unbending, and obdurate members of the Court. Per protocol, they listened, got what benefit they might, but could not, likely would not put hands together and clap their acknowledgement, their approval, their enthusiasm, their bliss for Gluck and his soaring brilliance.
Such a mark of approbation was unprecedented, even by the king himself. And so when Marie Antoinette rose and in an act of temerity, began to clap, she clapped alone… … but only for a moment…  for her sovereign lord and master (who understood the power of wives) soon clapped too… and what a king of France did, the world did… thus was the concept of applause born at Versailles, a tradition to this very day.
Go, then, to any search engine and find this masterpiece by Gluck. Listen carefully; you can just hear the enthusiastic applause of the queen from the days when she was young and anxious to use her power for the good of the Master and his dulcet sound., the sound that goes straight to your heart.
“Nothing I know brings on the glow/Like sweet applause.”
The absolute necessity for applause was made in big, brassy Broadway fashion with the title song from Betty Comden and Adolph Green’s Tony Award -winning 1970 musical “Applause.” It provided the title of this article and the heading above.
In it a group of aspiring actors sing their hearts out in the number that explains why they do so much, give so much, and are satisfied with so little. This is the reason: “You’ve had a taste of/The sound that says love/Applause, applause, applause.”
Now, the most important question. Do you give these folks what they need, or are you niggardly with praise, stingy with compliments, asking for everything, giving little, perhaps nothing in return? If this has been your modus operandi to date it is long past time to change. These recommendations will help.
1) Always find something to compliment in every live production of any kind. No matter how poor the production, how amateur, how imperfect, heart, soul, energies, imagination and ardor have gone into its creation. The oeuvre may be in need of any number of ameliorations… but you should focus less on those than on the (even infinitesimal) good that is delivered.
2) Have you seen brilliance in the work at hand? First, applaud strenuously. Think as you must how much time, treasure, imagination, practice, rewriting, rethinking, recasting, more practice have transpired to achieve this result. Respond accordingly.
3) Jump up when the word “bravissimo” is called for. Remember, when you enter into the world of the creative artist, you enter into a partnership. The artist gives of his talent, showing you his soul, ensuring that you have his very best. Then it is your turn…. your response should be nicely calibrated to ensure that what you say and do is as good as what you have experienced.
4) Whenever possible meet the performer and render your homage graciously and in person. For a good illustration of how this works, consider this. When I was in graduate school at Harvard, my roommate was mad for the theatre, particularly the Broadway theatre… And so in 1971 when “70, Girls, 70″ came to Boston for its pre-Broadway shake-down cruise, I took him. He was so enthusiastic about it, I wrote to Tommy Breslin, the youngest member of the cast, and invited him to dinner any night after the production. He responded promptly and we arranged to have him arrive at the bistro after my roommate and I were seated; Breslin astonishing him by greeting him as an old friend and sitting down to dinner…. Thus commenced a memorable evening that made Breslin feel like god and provided more evidence (if any were necessary) that I was Mephisto. Anyone might have done it… but,  hey presto, I did.
You can also do this.
During the time I lived in London working on my first book, my mother came to visit.  I held a party at the Women’s City Club for her and invited all my friends, including someone I didn’t know but knew she wanted to meet, the great actor Sir John Gielgud. He was starring in a West End play and I explained in my invitation my mother was his most fervent fan. There was no response…
… until the day of the party. Then, the event in full swing, an ancient footman walked up the great staircase, silver salver in gloved hand. In time honored tradition he bellowed her name… and handed her a letter… a letter from Sir John saying how sorry he was he could not attend, had a matinee, but wanted to let her know how honored he was by her good opinion and loyalty. This letter, still amongst my voluminous papers, was met with disbelief… joy… and deep gratitude. It was, after all, the right thing to do…
Begin today.
Each of us possesses an unlimited ability to applaud others. The question is not whether you can do it, whether you should do it, but whether you will do it. Thus, it all rests upon you, your good heart, kindness, and willingness to do the little that will give so much well earned happiness to so many.
“You’re thinking your through/That nobody cares/Then su