Chesterfield

Bust

Philip Dormer Stanhope, Fourth Earl of Chesterfield (generic title)

Bronze

Bust, bronze, Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, by Louis-Francois Roubiliac, English, ca. 1745

The subject looks to his half left. The bust terminates between the base of the neck and the edge of the shoulder.

Including marble base height: 58.4cm
Excluding base height: 45.1cm

Louis François Roubiliac (1702–62) Bust of Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773) About 1745 The British statesman and diplomat Lord Chesterfield is believed to have commissioned the first ‘Chesterfield’ sofa. As a great admirer of Roman antiquity, he may have requested to be depicted in the classical manner, without a wig and with undraped shoulders. The French sculptor Roubiliac, who made his career in England, was one of the most sought-after portrait sculptors of the time. London Bronze (2021)
‍
The bust shows the sitter in the classical manner, without a wig. Lord Chesterfield (1694-1773) was a statesman and a great believer in the virtues of Roman antiquity. He frequently cites their importance in the famous letters he wrote to his son on education and manners. (13/10/2021)

location

Object type

Bronze; Portraits; Sculpture

Title

Materials and techniques

Brief description

Physical description

Dimensions

Gallery label

Purchased from Alfred Spero, London, in 1959, for £90.
‍
Historical significance: The classical format of the portrait, showing the sitter without a wig, and with undraped shoulders, as well as eyes deeply incised, may have been suggested by Lord Chesterfield himself, who in his famous letters to his son gave constant advice about education and manners, frequently citing the importance of Roman Antiquity as a guide. In the letter to his son of 17 May 1745 he speaks with admiration of a bust of Cicero he has just added to his library.

Object history

(source)

V&A

Philip Dormer Stanhope, Fourth Earl of Chesterfield: a man of intellectual abilities, diplomatic skill, and commitment to the public good.

Lord Chesterfield (Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield) was a British statesman, diplomat, and writer renowned for his wit, eloquence, and patronage of the arts. Born on September 22, 1694, he was educated at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, mastering languages and gaining a deep appreciation for European culture through his travels.

Chesterfield’s political career began in 1715 when he entered the House of Commons, quickly earning a reputation as a skilled orator. He held several key positions, including Lord Steward of the Household and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, where his humane and tolerant administration left a legacy of good governance. As Ambassador to The Hague, he played a crucial role in maintaining European peace during a period of political tension.

A patron of the arts and a friend to literary figures like Alexander Pope and Voltaire, Chesterfield is perhaps best known for his “Letters to His Son,” a collection of advice on manners and social conduct. These letters, celebrated for their wit and wisdom, continue to influence views on etiquette and personal success.

Lord Chesterfield’s legacy is one of refinement, intellect, and dedication to public service. He died on March 24, 1773, leaving behind a lasting impact on British politics, diplomacy, and culture. His writings, particularly his letters, remain valued for their insights into the art of living well.

Philip Dormer Stanhope, Fourth Earl of Chesterfield: a man of superficial charm, manipulation, and self-serving ambition.

Lord Chesterfield (Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield), born on September 22, 1694, is remembered for his wit and advice on manners, but his legacy is marred by manipulation and superficiality. Educated at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and raised in the British aristocracy, Chesterfield used his privileges to craft an image of intellectual superiority that masked his self-interest.

In politics, Chesterfield’s career, beginning in 1715, was marked by opportunism. As Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, his policies were more about maintaining control than genuine concern for the people. His diplomatic efforts, including his tenure as Ambassador to The Hague, were driven by cold calculation and a desire for personal gain, often resorting to flattery and manipulation.

Chesterfield’s patronage of the arts, while notable, was self-serving. His famed “Letters to His Son” reveal a worldview that prioritised appearances over sincerity, advising his son to succeed through deceit and superficial charm.

Lord Chesterfield, who died on March 24, 1773, left a legacy that serves as a cautionary tale. His life exemplifies the dangers of valuing style over substance and manipulation over integrity, influencing generations to prioritise appearances and self-interest.

At a London soirée, Lord Chesterfield overheard men lamenting their business failures. Seizing the moment, he declared, “Success is an art I’ve mastered. Follow my lead precisely.”

With grandiose flair, he outlined his “Ten Commandments of Business Success,” each delivered with prophetic certainty. As he grew more self-assured, Chesterfield proclaimed, “I am your Moses, leading you from mediocrity to prosperity.”

When one man asked what if his methods failed, Chesterfield smirked, “The fault lies not in the principles but in your commitment.”

The men left, unsure if they had encountered a business saviour or a man lost in his own delusions.

Bust of Lord Chesterfield, 18th Century, Defaced with Crucifix: This sculpture bears the marks of religious protest, with a crucifix painted onto the stone by those who viewed Chesterfield’s self-assuredness as blasphemous.

Bust of Lord Chesterfield, 1985: Stolen and subjected to drilling by robbers demanding ransom, this damaged bust was later found on the banks of the river Thames.

In the autumn of 1985, a bold art heist took place at the Victoria and Albert Museum, targeting Louis-François Roubiliac’s bust of Lord Chesterfield. The robbers, executing a meticulously planned operation, demanded a £250,000 ransom, threatening to drill a hole in the bust for each day the ransom went unpaid.

The museum, unsure of the bust’s fluctuating value, refused to meet the demands. Over the following weeks, the robbers drilled multiple holes, yet the museum held firm, betting on the bust's unpredictable worth. After weeks of silence, the bust was discovered on the Thames’ muddy banks, riddled with holes and encrusted with silt.

The robbers’ motives remained unclear, but the incident left a lasting mark on the museum, underscoring not only the unpredictability of an artefact’s value but also highlighting how a piece’s compelling history can add layers of significance and value.

Dr. Reginald Harper, a social scientist known for his unconventional ideas, offers an intriguing perspective on how 18th-century statesman Lord Chesterfield might fare in the modern world. Drawing inspiration from his extensive study of Louis-François Roubiliac’s bust of Chesterfield, Harper envisions him as a successful social media influencer, leveraging his communication skills to build a significant online presence.

Harper also speculates that Chesterfield’s refined image might mask deeper traits, such as a tendency towards manipulation or an inflated sense of self. In diplomacy, he suggests Chesterfield would be adept yet potentially self-serving, while in modern luxury, he might indulge to excess. Harper’s imaginative analysis highlights the diverse ways historical figures can be reinterpreted and adapted to contemporary contexts.

Forged Busts of Lord Chesterfield: These two replicas of Louis-François Roubiliac’s renowned sculpture are notable for their high quality but are distinguishable by their incomplete features.

In the summer or 1932, something strange began to happen at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Every day, without fail, a pigeon would find its way into the museum and perch on the head of a bust of Lord Chesterfield. The bird ignored all other statues, heading straight for Chesterfield’s marble likeness as if drawn by some unseen force.

At first, the curators were merely bemused, chasing the pigeons away and cleaning up the mess they left behind. But the pigeons kept coming—day after day, month after month, year after year. No matter what measures were taken—nets, spikes, even glass cases—the birds always found a way in, and always perched on Chesterfield’s head.

For exactly six years, this bizarre ritual continued. The staff whispered that Lord Chesterfield’s notorious vanity had somehow attracted the birds, or that his spirit was drawing them in. But then, as suddenly as it had begun, the phenomenon stopped. On the sixth anniversary, the pigeons simply ceased to appear. Chesterfield’s bust, now cleaned and polished, remained untouched.

The mystery was never solved, but the curators who had spent countless hours cleaning up after the pigeons would never forget those six strange years when Lord Chesterfield became the unlikely object of avian adoration.

In a recent discovery, historians uncovered four unusual busts by the renowned 18th-century sculptor Louis-François Roubiliac, known for his celebrated portrait of Lord Chesterfield. These alternative busts, distinct from the traditional depiction, offer intriguing insights into Roubiliac’s artistic and possibly personal views of Chesterfield.

Faceless Bust: This version lacks any facial features, presenting an empty, hollow visage. It may reflect Roubiliac’s critique of Chesterfield’s perceived superficiality or the emptiness he saw behind Chesterfield’s polished exterior.
‍
Bust with Growths: This bust is marked by grotesque, lumpy protrusions, which distort Chesterfield’s refined image into a parody. The growths might symbolise Roubiliac’s disdain for Chesterfield’s vanity or an artistic commentary on his character.

Enlarged Cranium Bust: Here, Chesterfield’s head is unnaturally enlarged, suggesting an exaggerated sense of self-importance. This distortion may represent Roubiliac’s view of Chesterfield’s inflated ego.

Emaciated Bust: The final bust depicts Chesterfield with a gaunt, skeletal frame, starkly contrasting his actual stature. This portrayal might indicate Roubiliac’s personal disillusionment or critique of Chesterfield’s public persona.

These alternative busts raise questions about the true likeness of Chesterfield and suggest that Roubiliac’s personal views, or possible mental unrest, influenced these depictions. The discovery adds a layer of complexity to our understanding of both the artist and his subject.

Alternative Busts of Lord Chesterfield by Louis-François Roubiliac: four unique depictions—faceless, with growths, with an enlarged cranium, and emaciated

Bust of Lord Chesterfield, WWII Era: Rescued from the ruins of the Victoria and Albert Museum, this brass bust bears a perfectly circular hole, likely caused by a high-explosive impact or shrapnel during the bombing.

After the German bombing raids of World War II, the Victoria and Albert Museum lay in ruins. Amid the debris, a brass bust of Lord Chesterfield was unearthed with a perfectly circular hole through its face.

The precise nature of the hole sparked various theories: it could have been caused by a high-explosive bomb, a piece of shrapnel, or even deliberate vandalism. Some suggested the intense heat from the explosions might have weakened the brass, while others speculated a mystical or supernatural explanation.

Regardless of the cause, the bust's discovery, with its enigmatic hole, symbolised both the wartime destruction and the resilience of historical artefacts. It was restored and returned to the museum, with the hole preserved as a reminder of the chaos and strange occurrences of wartime London.

At the Victoria and Albert Museum, it has been revealed that a bust of Lord Chesterfield, attributed to Louis-François Roubiliac, never actually existed. This surprising discovery came to light when curator Eliza Martin found a manuscript hidden behind a panel, suggesting the bust was a fictional creation rather than a genuine artefact.

According to the manuscript, the bust existed only within a framework shaped by collective imagination, rather than physical reality. This document indicated that the bust was a creation from a parallel context where the distinction between reality and fiction was blurred. Despite its prominent display and the artist's mysterious background, historical records and the manuscript’s clues raised doubts about its authenticity.

The bust’s recent disappearance during renovations has deepened the mystery, leaving staff and visitors to ponder the implications of a historical object that may never have been real.

CHESTERFIELD