Art That’s Fit For A Queen

Studded with 1,333 diamonds, including a stunning four-carat yellow sparkler at its center, the Diamond Diadem is truly a crown fit for a king — or a queen, as the case may be. Commissioned in 1820 by the flamboyant George IV, the Diamond Diadem is now used on ceremonial occasions by Queen Elizabeth II and is perhaps the most famous object in the Royal Collection, the half-million pieces of art and treasure acquired by monarchs over the past five centuries and held in trust by the Queen for her successors. More than 450 items from the collection are on display until next January at the recently re-opened Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace.

Closed since 1999, the Queen’s Gallery underwent a $29 million renovation in honor of Queen Elizabeth’s Golden Jubilee. Its reopening has been somewhat tarnished by allegations that some of the wood used came from endangered forests, contrary to Palace specifications. Though many of the paintings, fine furniture, ceramics, gems and manuscripts were already on show at royal residences across the country, “Royal Treasures” brings together some of the finest works in a modern exhibition setting that manages to be both regal and accessible. Among the highlights: a rare example of the work of 17th century Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer, drawings by Leonardo da Vinci, and jeweled Fabergé eggs.

Though pieces in the Royal Collection date back to 1498, Henry VII’s reign, George IV was its biggest and most enthusiastic contributor. As Prince Regent and later as King from 1820 to 1830, George IV is remembered not so much for his political skills — a contemporary found the King “not the least interested in public affairs” — but for his broad aesthetic tastes. “People were horrified at his extravagance,” says Hugh Roberts, director of the Royal Collection. In addition to the Diamond Diadem, which cost roughly the equivalent of $130,000 and he wore only once, he commissioned a set of gilded silver table decorations — one candelabrum of which cost a small fortune — a splendid equestrian painting by George Stubbs and a highly decorative bath cabinet. The cabinet, which covered the tub, took four people to move; George found it so impractical, he used it for only a year.

“He regarded any day in which he hadn’t purchased a work of art as a day wasted,” Roberts says. It was George IV who acquired many of the collection’s Dutch and Flemish masterpieces, including Rembrandt’s delicate portrait of Agatha Bas, as well as celebrated examples of French furniture, such as the oak and gilt bronze chest-of-drawers made for Louis XVI.

Among George IV’s royal predecessors who also preferred paintings to politics was Charles I, who ruled from 1625 to 1649. He began collecting in earnest in 1623 after a visit to the Spanish court and its impressive art collection. Over the next 20 years, he amassed 1,500 paintings, including works by the Venetian master Titian and the Bavarian portrait painter Hans Holbein the Younger. “Charles I not only appreciated pictures in their own right, but he saw them as a great political advantage,” says Christopher Lloyd, surveyor of the Queen’s pictures. “Suddenly London had this great collection and it gave the court political clout.” Though many of Charles’ acquisitions are now in museums outside Britain — his collection was sold off after his execution for treason in the wake of the Civil War — one of his most famous is on display at the Queen’s Gallery: Van Dyck’s portrait of the King himself with an aide, M. de St. Antoine. This enormous painting portrays the monarch — a small, frail man — as a powerful figure astride a magnificent white horse.

The collection also flourished during the 64-year reign of Queen Victoria. Though early Italian works and old master drawings were purchased during the period, the Queen and her beloved consort Albert favored cozy, domestic renderings of favorite pets — like Albert’s hound Eos — and depictions of family life.

When it comes to Queen Elizabeth’s tastes in art, the experts are diplomatic. “Despite her many virtues, interest in art is not one of them,” says Robin Simon, editor of the British Art Journal. “The most she ever did was commission a suite of Formica furniture.” Deep in the bowels of Windsor Castle, there is said to be a 1950s room made entirely of Formica. The Queen was so displeased with it that she swore off contemporary art altogether.

One of the exceptions to this rule is the portrait of Elizabeth given to the collection by the artist Lucian Freud, on public display for the first time. When the picture was unveiled last December, British newspapers lashed out, calling it “cruel”, “a travesty” and “extremely unflattering.” But Lloyd, the Queen’s pictures surveyor, calls it “powerful.” Perhaps wisely, Queen Elizabeth has focused on conserving the royal collection and exhibiting more of its treasures to the public rather than adding to it. “She’s not Charles I and she’s not George IV,” admits the Royal Collection’s Roberts. “And frankly, thank goodness.”