DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.29195#0056
Secrets of the Past
Fig. 50. Pompeo Batoni, Apollo and two Mus-
es, Euterpe and Urania, replica, oils on canvas,
after 1741; Wilanow Palace Museum
Stanistaw
Kostka and
Aleksandra
depicted
in words and
pictures
to the public. No doubt he had her support, too, for his project to establish a museum
of the fine arts in Warsaw, much of which he managed to accomplish on the premises
of Warsaw University in 1808-1820. His high esteem for his wife’s knowledge of the
arts is reflected in the final part of the above-cited dedication, in which he related an
incident that occurred in Vienna, the city where their love started in 1775.
We feel that in a book on the history of the Palace where today the key decisions on
Poland’s art and many aspects of its culture are being made it will be right to quote this
final part of the dedication, or rather a sort of appendix to it: It befits not a husband to
flatter his wife, therefore let me citejust one example to show that I am no flatterer. One day
during a stay in Vienna we visited the ImperialExhibition Hallfor engravedgemstones. The
learned Heckel was showing us round, giving a full account, all the more enthusiastically
when he noticed that we were no strangers to this branch of the arts. After he had shown us
many other stones he handed my wife — ifl remember rightly — an engraved carnelian, ask-
ing her to peruse it. Having examined it carefully, she passed it to me, saying in Polish that
it did not look ancient to her, but seemed to be the work of Pichler, a well-known German
who lived in Rome. She did not mention his name, so as not to betray even the slightest hint
ofher misgivings. I cast an eye on it and nodded to indicate my concurrence. Heckel, who
had been watching us carefully, started to urge me to disclose my wife s opinion on the stone;
finally Isatisfied his curiosity. He was astonishedandsaid that the lady was the most conver-
sant expert he had ever seen. For a long time, he continued, the stone had been regarded by
the exhibition hall’s stajfas antique, until they were cured oftheir error by Pichler himself,
who waspassing through Vienna and recognised his handiwork. Heckel was so impressed by
the accuracy of my wife’s judgement that when he met me a fewyears later he still recalled
the incident and his surprise (Potocki 1815/1992, Vol. 1, p. 5).
We shall return to Aleksandra Potocka in the next chapter; now we shall turn to the
portraits of her and her husband, whose work is still not sufficiently widely known,
despite his enormous merit for his country, as well as the arts and sciences. Perhaps
the finest portrait of Aleksandra was done by Batoni in Rome in 1780, showing her
as Melpomene with a theatre mask on a chain round her neck (Fig. 48). It is part of a
diptych, the other half of which shows her sister Izabela Elzbieta as Polyhymnia, and is
now preserved in Wilanow Palace, although originally it must certainly have hung in
our Palace. These two of the Princess Marshal’s daughters were also painted by Carlo
Labruzzi during an excursion in the environs of Rome (Grand Tour 2006, pp. 100 and
112). While Izabela Elzbieta was definitely a beauty, Aleksandra was not exceptionally
good-looking, but instead she was much happier in life. Her aquiline nose, slightly pro-
truding cheekbones, and small mouth endowed her with a certain nobility; moreover,
in her eyes we can discern a strong character and a certain kind of noble gravity. She
was definitely one of those women who are denied the charms of stunning beauty but
are able to create and sustain an excellent domestic atmosphere as mistress of the house
and a companion supporting their husband in his sundry activities and enterprises.
When Stanislaw Kostka died, Aleksandra, as if in memory of his great love of Italy,
went on another tour of that country which they both loved so much. Grief-stricken
when the November Uprising of 1830 fell, she left for Krakow and died there soon af-
terwards, but had not failed to ask to be buried next to her beloved husband. We know
Stanislaw Kostka from his numerous, oft-described portraits, the best of which were
60
Fig. 50. Pompeo Batoni, Apollo and two Mus-
es, Euterpe and Urania, replica, oils on canvas,
after 1741; Wilanow Palace Museum
Stanistaw
Kostka and
Aleksandra
depicted
in words and
pictures
to the public. No doubt he had her support, too, for his project to establish a museum
of the fine arts in Warsaw, much of which he managed to accomplish on the premises
of Warsaw University in 1808-1820. His high esteem for his wife’s knowledge of the
arts is reflected in the final part of the above-cited dedication, in which he related an
incident that occurred in Vienna, the city where their love started in 1775.
We feel that in a book on the history of the Palace where today the key decisions on
Poland’s art and many aspects of its culture are being made it will be right to quote this
final part of the dedication, or rather a sort of appendix to it: It befits not a husband to
flatter his wife, therefore let me citejust one example to show that I am no flatterer. One day
during a stay in Vienna we visited the ImperialExhibition Hallfor engravedgemstones. The
learned Heckel was showing us round, giving a full account, all the more enthusiastically
when he noticed that we were no strangers to this branch of the arts. After he had shown us
many other stones he handed my wife — ifl remember rightly — an engraved carnelian, ask-
ing her to peruse it. Having examined it carefully, she passed it to me, saying in Polish that
it did not look ancient to her, but seemed to be the work of Pichler, a well-known German
who lived in Rome. She did not mention his name, so as not to betray even the slightest hint
ofher misgivings. I cast an eye on it and nodded to indicate my concurrence. Heckel, who
had been watching us carefully, started to urge me to disclose my wife s opinion on the stone;
finally Isatisfied his curiosity. He was astonishedandsaid that the lady was the most conver-
sant expert he had ever seen. For a long time, he continued, the stone had been regarded by
the exhibition hall’s stajfas antique, until they were cured oftheir error by Pichler himself,
who waspassing through Vienna and recognised his handiwork. Heckel was so impressed by
the accuracy of my wife’s judgement that when he met me a fewyears later he still recalled
the incident and his surprise (Potocki 1815/1992, Vol. 1, p. 5).
We shall return to Aleksandra Potocka in the next chapter; now we shall turn to the
portraits of her and her husband, whose work is still not sufficiently widely known,
despite his enormous merit for his country, as well as the arts and sciences. Perhaps
the finest portrait of Aleksandra was done by Batoni in Rome in 1780, showing her
as Melpomene with a theatre mask on a chain round her neck (Fig. 48). It is part of a
diptych, the other half of which shows her sister Izabela Elzbieta as Polyhymnia, and is
now preserved in Wilanow Palace, although originally it must certainly have hung in
our Palace. These two of the Princess Marshal’s daughters were also painted by Carlo
Labruzzi during an excursion in the environs of Rome (Grand Tour 2006, pp. 100 and
112). While Izabela Elzbieta was definitely a beauty, Aleksandra was not exceptionally
good-looking, but instead she was much happier in life. Her aquiline nose, slightly pro-
truding cheekbones, and small mouth endowed her with a certain nobility; moreover,
in her eyes we can discern a strong character and a certain kind of noble gravity. She
was definitely one of those women who are denied the charms of stunning beauty but
are able to create and sustain an excellent domestic atmosphere as mistress of the house
and a companion supporting their husband in his sundry activities and enterprises.
When Stanislaw Kostka died, Aleksandra, as if in memory of his great love of Italy,
went on another tour of that country which they both loved so much. Grief-stricken
when the November Uprising of 1830 fell, she left for Krakow and died there soon af-
terwards, but had not failed to ask to be buried next to her beloved husband. We know
Stanislaw Kostka from his numerous, oft-described portraits, the best of which were
60