Independent . . . self-reliant . . . going it alone. Alot of Texans love to describe this state that way. But in the 1840s, Texas needed all the friends she could get and that included France. Texans had broken away from Mexico and formed their own country. The new country was flat broke, short on gold and other treasures (oil came nearly a century later) and Mexico wanted her northern suburbs back. So the people who ran the government made friends with France and England, who sent diplomats to open embassies here with an eye toward making money or gaining a new colony. Neither dream came to fruition for the Europeans. The diplomats had packed up and gone home by the time Texas got the U.S. to pay off its debts and agreed to become the 28th state. France left a wonderful bit of history on a hill in Austin, the old French Legation building.
The French ambassador arrived in 1840 (only after the city had changed its name from “Waterloo”) and built his fancy home just east of the city on a bluff where he could see the Comanches coming if there was trouble. It was a classy place, designed by a French architect with classic lines and manicured gardens that put the rest of Austin to shame.
The French ambassador arrived in 1840 (only after the City had changed its name from “Waterloo”) and built his fancy home just east of the city on a bluff where he could see the Comanches coming if there was trouble. It was a classy place, designed by a French architect with classic lines and manicured gardens that put the rest of Austin to shame. The legation building was calculated to impress the locals and show off the beauty and grace of France. That it did, but the ambassador did not.
He quickly ended up crossways with an Austin big wheel after his servant killed the man’s hogs who were tearing up the French gardens. “Hogicide” must have been a serious offense back then. The owner knocked the fire out of the ambassador’s servant and murder threats were made. The dust-up between the two men was big news in Austin and even had a name, the Pig War. It ended when the ambassador left town, abandoning the legation building, the nice furniture, china and the bacon in the smokehouse.
Someone had the presence of mind to take over the empty French estate, keep it up and live there. Dieu les benisse! The old legation still stands on top of a hill and is in beautiful shape for a 180 year old wooden building. Years ago, one could stand in the gardens that surround it, look west and see all of downtown Austin. Now, the view is blocked by new, towering condominiums that have all the architectural aesthetics of a Lego block. I can guarantee you no one will ever paint a picture of those condos. The old French Legation, however, is hard not to paint.
With it’s hipped roof, quaint dormer windows, bottle-green shuttered windows and broad, columned front porch, the legation looks very much out of place in Texas. It could have been lifted out of the Treme in New Orleans or a half dozen French colonial cities across the world. It still impresses the locals, or it does me anyway.
I painted the legation on a windy afternoon with very little sun. The freeze had knocked all the leaves off the trees and strays blew into my paint box and stuck to the wet canvas. Cloudy days are no good for painting due to lack of deep shadows. The frost-zapped foliage offered up nothing in the way of greens and the noise from the interstate was frightful. So I made up my own greens and added leaves to the live oak. Artistic license. There were no loose hogs about, but a stray cat ran under my car. The old building sat there in the middle of all of this, looking as fresh and sound as it must have during the height of the Pig War. Seven colors and too many brushes. The parallel lines of the columns are not something you want to attempt free hand standing in a windy park. Do go see this place if you can.
Here’s the finished work:
Due to the aforementioned leafy canvas and wind-swayed brushstrokes, the full-sized painting won’t be on the site, but click here to see the tiny painting.
Is there a painting of mine you’d like to know the story of? Send me a comment or email and let me know. I’d love to hear from you.
