Madame Barbe: Countess, Socialite & BBW Exhibitionist (Patreon)
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As some of you know, I’m a bit of a fine art aficionado. Of course, being a man of modest means precludes me from being much of a “collector,” per se, but I have my fair share of artwork in my home. Mostly inexpensive prints and original works by regional artists of limited repute, but I enjoy them, and that matters to me far more than reputation or price.
Though most of my art is contemporary, one antique art form I’ve always appreciated, even though I’ve only seen a few up close, is miniature portraiture—tiny watercolor paintings on vellum or ivory—that reached their zenith of popularity in the 18thand 19th centuries. It fascinates me how artists achieved such exacting detail on surfaces intended to fit into lockets or pocket watches, and the canvases they used (vellum is calfskin and ivory is verboten) only adds to their exotic appeal.
Recently, a miniature portrait caught my eye at an estate sale. Usually, it’s the precision and technique with which these tiny works are rendered that enamors me. The sitters for the portraits, generally stuffy-looking and long-forgotten aristocrats, are of secondary importance. Not so in this case. Call it a triumph of substance over style, because the gorgeous brunette in the painting was clearly a gal of substance. Full dress, full face, full bosom, full mane, full everything! Well, everything except my wallet because I bought it on the spot.
It wasn’t until I got my treasure home that I truly began to appreciate the artistry behind the beauty. It’s hard to tell from the photo, but the composition is just a bit larger than a postage stamp. Nevertheless, the artist not only captured the delicate transparency of the sitter’s opulent lace dress, but the ample curves lurking just beneath its sheer surface. And while the ivory support may have helped in reproducing the curvaceous cutie’s flawless skin tone, it took a deft touch to capture her piercing blue eyes and pensive pose. Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention her magnificent mane. (Crystal Gayle, eat your heart out!)
I immediately knew this wasn’t the daughter of some random silk merchant; this was someone special. All it took was a little Googling for me to discover I was right!
Barbara Dmitrievna Rimsky-Korsakova, aka ‘Madame Barbe’ (1833-1878), was a countess from a noble Russian family. More than that, she was a rabble-rousing socialite whose unconventional beauty and behavior frequently landed her in the news--both in traditional newspapers and “scandal sheets” across Europe. While details have been lost to time, the excerpts that remain show that her antics, despite occurring more than 150 years ago, would be right at home on TMZ or in today’s National Inquirer.
Madame Barbe married prominent Russian composer, Nikolai Sergeevich Rimsky-Korsakov, at the tender age of sixteen. She frequently toured Europe with her husband and while on the social circuit she gained a reputation as both a ballroom beauty and a bit of an exhibitionist. She once attended a ball in the resort town of Biarritz, France “looking like a nymph who’d just left the bath,” while she arrived by carriage to a costume party at the Naval Ministry with “her coachman dressed as a crocodile and she as a barbarian…the multicolored feathers that winged her body allowing all of society to appreciate the best-shaped legs of all Europe.”
Sounds like my kind of gal! The more I learned about Madame Barbe, the more I liked her. Especially after reading this account of her arrival at an imperial costume ball in Paris during the winter of 1863: “the Russian countess Rimsky-Korsakova arrived in the outfit of the priestess Tanit (the novel “Salammbô” by Gustave Flaubert was in fashion). Her attire consisted entirely of a gauss shawl. Naturally, her wonderful shapely figure was openly demonstrated. Naturally, the guests were shocked. The empress flushed. Several minutes later Rimsky-Korsakova was invited to leave. Nonetheless she attained her goal: the scandal was grandiose. With her nudity she mocked their sophisticated fashion and pretentious manners.” The event was later referenced in Leo Tolstoy’s famed piece of realist fiction, Anna Karenina, when the narrator describes a popular couple named “Korsunsky” (a combination of Rimsky-Korsakov) arriving at party—he was “handsome and well-built,” while she was “incredibly beautiful and incredibly naked.”
I can only imagine how fashionable French ingénues reacted to the brash and bodacious Barbe. I can almost hear their snide remarks, delivered with excessively snarky French accents between cigarette puffs, as the nearly naked countess plucked hors d'oeuvres from the tray of a passing maitre d'. Even modern assessments of the countess are curiously catty. “She is far from an ideal beauty,” reads a scholarly analysis of the 1864 portrait from which my miniature was derived. “Broad cheekbones, plump cheeks, and heavy eyelids are not the features of goddesses.” Another contemporary author was quick to apologize for the “best-shaped legs in all of Europe” quote. “Excuse the exaggeration,” she wrote. “Journalists of the time did not have much opportunity to see the bare legs of women from high society.” A third dismissed the countesses’ looks and sturdy bearing in a casually racist manner, “One can easily see that her ancestors were Slavs and Tatars.”
After divorcing in her 20s (more scandal!), Madame Barbe moved to Paris once and for all. There, she indulged her free-spirited passions unapologetically. She had many lovers, but never remarried and chose to live alone until her death. “I am free and independent,” the countess said of herself. “My mistakes are my mistakes. My success is my success. I believe in myself, I do everything alone and don’t make a tragedy of it.”
While it may be an exaggeration to call Madame Barbe a BBW (at least as we use the term), this clearly wasn’t your Mother’s Barbie. She was large and in charge, a trailblazer of non-conformity who garnered equal parts scorn and admiration. She was out of place in her time but would have fit perfectly today.
Just like she does on my wall!
Maverick