The Comtesse d’Egmont Pignatelli in Spanish Costume

Sophie Jeanne Septimanie du Plessis probably never lifted a finger to dress herself, much less to dust a piece of furniture or to sweep a floor. As the daughter of the Duc de Richelieu—one of the most powerful men at the French royal court—Septimanie's job was to entertain suitors, charm socially influential women, be pretty and decorative, and uphold the honor of her family by marrying advantageously. All accounts of Septimanie's life agree that she performed her duties well: her portrait The Comtesse d’Egmont Pignatelli in Spanish Costume (cover) by Alexander Roslin (1718-1793), executed at the height of her social prowess, still glows with her lustrous beauty. La Comtesse acquired her title when she married the Comte d’Egmont, Prince Pignatelli, an older widower with one young daughter. The Comte sprang from Spanish and Dutch aristocracy, but his roots were actually in Naples, the Spanish-held city-state. His wealth and position meant that Septimanie retained material comforts and an enviable place at the court of Louis XV. The Comtesse became one of the prized salonnières; invitations to her salons were coveted among her social circle, which included intellectuals such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau. One of her closest friends was King Gustav III of Sweden; they became acquainted when he studied in Paris. Her letters to the king, preserved in the archives at the University of Uppsala, reveal a deep, respectful relationship and Septimanie's candid opinions, even about the French king. The link in their friendship was Le Suèdois (the Swede), Alexander Roslin.

Roslin was born in Malmö, Sweden, but lived his professional life in Paris and is best known as a court portraitist and French Academician. He had studied in Sweden with Georg Engelhardt Schröder, ventured to Italy, and finally landed in France in 1752. Roslin drew criticism and praise from noted figures of the Enlightenment: the Age of Reason was in full bloom. Denis Diderot, author of the Encyclopédie, the defining Enlightenment literary work, wrote that Roslin was “cold, graceless, and lifeless,” in his portrayal of Septimanie, “one of the most noble and seductive figures in Paris.” Yet Roslin remained in high demand for his artistic services and became a wealthy man, knighted in Sweden, and a guest in multiple European royal courts. Roslin and his wife Marie-Suzanne Giroust, herself a pastel artist, had 6 children together and sustained an apparently happy marriage.

In Roslin's portrait, La Comtesse reclines comfortably; her posture, hardly ramrod-straight, is not that of a formal gathering, but suggests that she is at home, dressed to receive her guests at an evening salon. The scenery reflects the prosperity of her marriage: table, settee, drapes, floral arrangement, and painting represent the material wealth of the Egmont Pignatelli family. The guitar to Septimanie's right has been placed, some say, to symbolize the Spanish connection, along with the Iberian-style court gown so gracefully arranged on her slight figure. Pearls and ribbons and a querulous spaniel surround the voluminous skirts: they add to the ropes of pearls at Septimanie's neck and bodice so that there remains no doubt of her financial position. The book in the Comtesse's hand and the sheet music by the guitar lend a more personal air to the portrait, since Septimanie, a gifted guitarist, whiled away the hours at her country house by reading and by playing her beloved instrument. Light filtering into Septimanie's room comes from an open arch, with a nod by Roslin to a similar effect used by earlier Dutch artists. The original frame, gilded and adorned with fine carvings, further enhances the luxe nature of this sumptuous portrait.

Enlightenment-era France overflowed with intellectual and creative enthusiasm, yet the division between the aristocracy and the working class deepened and eventually exploded into the French Revolution. Roslin's work, including the portrait of the young Comtesse, has left a snapshot of the luxurious life of the wealthy and powerful. The painter lived 20 years more than Septimanie: she died, childless, of tuberculosis, at age 33 years. Roslin himself outlived not only his beautiful subject but also Gustav III, who was assassinated in 1792. Roslin, whose fame emerged from his expertise in the painting of the skin and the depiction of costumes, was reportedly the “wealthiest artist in Paris” at the time of his death; he had achieved the height of his artistic power when he painted Septimanie, a woman at her own apex of social prestige and personal poise. Roslin's skill, Septimanie's beauty, the Comte's wealth, 18th-century symbolism, Enlightenment theory: all these factors combine to elevate this portrait from a simple commission—to immortalize a dutiful, appreciated wife—to great art, representative of a tumultuous period in French history.