philippe of orleans

Empress Joséphine’s Sapphire and Diamond Parure, sold by Hortense de Beauharnais, Queen of Holland, to King Louis Philippe of the French in 1821.


“You have taken off your clothes and shown us your frailty. I suggest you put them back on.

“Thank you.“

Versailles Louis XIV & Monsieur Philippe moment for @malisvaart


In 2X10  Everything goes well under the sun for Philippe.
For the first time in his life, he is completely happy.
He has at his side the love of his life, Chevalier, and his best friend, his wife Palatine, both waiting for him, and a new purpose in life: the war he always wanted to do, while is gonna to be father again.


I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother; you were very dear to me. Your love for me was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women.

                                             2: Samuel 1:26

Achilles & Patroclus

Ragnar & Athelstan

Alexander & Hephaistion

Chevalier & Philippe 

Monsieur was not of a temper to feel any sorrow very deeply. He loved his children too well even to reprove them when they deserved it; and if he had occasion to make complaints of them, he used to come to me with them.

“But, Monsieur,” I have said, “they are your children as well as mine, why do you not correct them?”

He replied, “I do not know how to scold, and besides they would not care for me if I did; they fear no one but you.”

By always threatening the children with me, he kept them in constant fear of me. He estranged them from me as much as possible, but he left me to exercise more authority over my elder daughter and over the Queen of Sicily than over my own son; he could not, however, prevent my occasionally telling them what I thought. My daughter never gave me any cause to complain of her. Monsieur was always jealous of the children, and was afraid they would love me better than him; it was for this reason that he made them believe I disapproved of almost all they did. I generally pretended not to see this contrivance.

—  Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchesse d’Orléans — Memoirs

To understand the future relationship between Monchevy and even between Monchelotte in Versailles, I think the view offered by Liselotte and Philippe with his favorites in “A Little Chaos” is correct.

Liselotte defines his life with Philippe as “happy” before Sabine de Barra (my beloved Kate Winslet) , the architect of the Bosquet de la Salle-de-Ball next to  André Le Nôtre .
Liselotte says that although her husband gives his heart to his lover, it has not stopped them from being parents and that Philippe is a great father and has much courage in war, aspects that are compatible with Philippe D'Orleans in the series, “Versailles “. So an happy ending is waiting for Monchevy, who in my opinion will enjoy of their love a lot of years. Like in a fairytale.

Fragments of Philippe d'Orléans' life - Part 3

20 janvier 1666 Les pleurs, chauds, fluides, innombrables, voulant extirper de son corps tout le mal, toute la douleur qu'il ressentait et ne voulait plus en lui. Il fallait être fort et pourtant il ne le pouvait pas, enfermé dans son propre corps victime de sa faiblesse charnelle. Son isolement l'avait rendu plus faible encore, pauvre créature répandue sur le sofa, il ne se tenait plus, ne l'avait plus voulu. Son sourire l'avait quitté, sa joie de vivre était morte et pendait au fond de son cœur comme le cadavre qu'il avait quitté quelques heures plus tôt. Les larmes s’étaient mêlées au khôl noir, avaient terni le rouge de ses joues, perverti le blanc de son teint pour s'insinuer dans la dentelle de son cou, imprégner la soie qui reposait sur son torse. Son cœur retrouvait alors ces larmes qu'il avait voulu bannir à jamais, nourrissant ce fleuve qu'il ne parvenait a endiguer. S'il pouvait l'arracher il le ferait. Quels remords, quels regrets aurait-il d’ôter cette épine qui le faisait tant souffrir? Le sang est plus beau que les larmes, le rouge vivant l'emporte sur la transparence des pleurs. La couleur toujours, et elle jaillirait de sa poitrine, sublime, tragique. Il achèverait le tableau, mourrait dans sa dignité perdue.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Assuming something drastically changed and France went back to being a monarchy, who would be the legitimate heir of the throne of current day France?

Well, doesn’t that depend on who you ask. What it comes down to today are essentially three competing branches: the Legitimists, the Orleanists, and the Bonapartists. Each branch saw at least one of its line rule France for varying periods of time, and consequently each thinks its descendants are the rightful rulers of France today.

The Legitimists are the followers of the senior male line of the Bourbon dynasty. The Bourbons had ruled France from the time of Henry IV to the French Revolution, in which Louis XVI died. In 1814, when the monarchy was restored, the dead king’s next-youngest brother took the throne as Louis XVIII (recognizing Louis XVI’s young son, who had died in poor conditions in prison, as “Louis XVII”). He, having no children, was in turn succeeded by his younger brother, who ruled as Charles X until the July Revolution of 1830 finally ousted the Bourbons from power. Charles himself had two sons - the extremely short-reigning (a disputed 20 minutes!) Louis XIX and the younger, the Duke of Berry - and while the elder had no children, the Duke of Berry’s wife had a posthumous son, acclaimed by Legitimists as Henry V. The Count of Chambord, as he preferred to be known, was the last legitimate, male, male-line descendant of King Louis XV of France; unfortunately for the hopes of the Legitimists, Henry died childless in 1883.

This is where things started to get rather more complicated. For the Legitimists, the new heir was Juan, Count of Montizón. If he sounds Spanish, that’s because he was: Juan was the younger son of Carlos, Count of Molina, second son of King Charles IV of Spain. His French connection came from Juan’s great-great-grandfather, Philip V of Spain, who had been born a French prince and grandson of Louis XIV. Charles II, the tragically inbred last Habsburg King of Spain, had nominated his great-nephew to be his heir, and the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 confirmed him as King of Spain. For the Legitimists, the unwritten fundamental laws of the French crown meant that the next legitimate male-line male heir of the Bourbon line had to be the King of France, no ifs, ands, or buts about it; with all the eligible heirs of the first son of Louis Le Grand Dauphin (only legitimate son of Louis XIV) gone, the next king had to come from the line of the second son - that is, Philip V. Juan, as the senior male male-line descendant of Philip V, was therefore the heir (and, according to some, the heir to Spain as well, but that’s Carlism and that’s it’s own separate complicated subject). The Carlist pretenders to the throne of France continued until 1936, when the last male of the legitimate male line, Alfonso Carlos, died without children. The French claim then passed to the deposed Alfonso XIII of Spain, the heir of Charles IV’s third son, and then to his second son, Jaime, Duke of Segovia. Since 1989, the heir along this Legitimist line has been Jaime’s grandson Louis Alphonse, the self-styled Duke of Anjou (and, if he were to reign, Louis XX). 

For the Orleanists - descendants of Louis XIV’s younger brother, Philippe, Dule of Orleans - the Spanish branch of the Bourbon family should never have come into the equation. Under the terms of the Treaty of Utrecht, Philip V was required to surrender his rights to the French throne as a condition of keeping the Spanish one. To the Orleanists, this meant that Philip and his descendants had surrendered any right to claim the crown later, what’s more, in the eyes of the Orleanists the Spanish Bourbons become foreigners, with no intention of returning to France or subjecting themselves to the French king’s laws, and therefore unacceptable as candidates to the French throne. They, the next heirs of Louis XIII after the line of Louis XIV died out or was excluded, would be the rightful kings of France (and indeed, the Count of Chambord seemed to agree, calling the Orleans princes “my sons” and recognizing himself as the last of Louis XIV’s line).

The Orleanists had themselves briefly enjoyed the rule of France when, in 1830, Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, was acclaimed King of the French and accepted the crown after Charles X had been overthrown. Louis Philippe’s father had been the infamous Philippe Egalite, the First Prince of the Blood whose eager support for the French Revolution led him to vote for the death of his cousin Louis XVI (which didn’t in the end save his own head from the guillotine). For these two deeds, as you might suspect, die-hard Legitimists would never forgive the House of Orleans, and while early in the Third Republic the Legitimists and Orleanists in the Assembly were willing to come to a sort of compromise (the Orleanists recognizing the Count of Chambord as King of France, with the childless Count then naming the Count of Paris, the head of the House of Orleans, as his heir), the Count’s own refusal to assert his rights on anything but his own terms (particularly the restoration of the old royalist flag over the revolutionary tricolor) meant that true fusion between the two lines foundered. Still, when the Count died, the majority of Legitimists recognized the Count of Paris as the rightful heir to France. The current Orleanist pretender today is Henry, Count of Paris, the great-great-great grandson of Louis Philippe.

The third branch of French pretenders today are the Bonapartists, whose founder needs no introduction. Napoleon’s only legitimate son, the King of Rome, died childless, a prisoner of his Austrian cousins, but the Emperor’s nephew Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte (yes, he who had possibly the most farcical invasion attempt in French history) eventually restored the “imperial dignity” of France with himself as Emperor Napoleon III. He was in turn overthrown in 1870, the last monarch France ever saw, and when he died three years later his son Louis was acknowledged by Bonapartists as Napoleon IV. Unfortunately, “Lou-Lou”, as his father had affectionately called him, died childless after a skirmish with Zulus in 1879. His will named his second cousin Victor - the son of Prince Napoleon and grandson of Jerome Bonaparte, the youngest of the General’s brothers - as his heir (infuriating Prince Napoleon in the process). More disputes arose when Victor’s son, the so-called Napoleon VI, died in 1997 and his will revealed that he nominated as his successor his grandson, Jean-Christophe Napoleon, over his son Charles - despite the latter’s furious protestations that he is still the rightful successor to the “moral heritage” of the Bonaparte line. 

If this all seems a lot of flummery, given that France hasn’t had a monarch in almost a century and a half and doesn’t look to be welcoming one anytime soon … well, it is. But monarchists need something to keep themselves occupied when there are no more kings around.