The Louvre’s Stolen Sapphires

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A country’s heritage. A family’s tragic destiny. Two hundred years of history, stolen in seven minutes.

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File Under: Other Royal Jewels

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On October 30, 2025, the Count of Paris released a video asking the thieves who robbed the Louvre to return the stolen jewels that had once belonged to his family. For 164 years, this gorgeous set of sapphire and diamond jewels had belonged to the Orléans family, where they adorned five generations of strong, intelligent women.

In this post & video, we’re going to trace these jewels from their first proven owner, the daughter of Empress Josephine, to the Countess of Paris, the last woman to wear them before her husband sold them to the Louvre in 1985. We’ll meet so many people along the way: a queen who refused to touch the French crown jewels, a princess who hunted, smoked, and drank like a man, and another princess who left France for Africa to raise crops, livestock, and a family.

According to the Louvre, the traceable history of these jewels begins with Queen Hortense, the only daughter of Empress Josephine. But where did she get them? I’ve seen two different explanations.

One explanation points to her mother, Josephine.

According to jewel historian and author Vincent Meylan, Hortense inherited a set of sapphire jewels from Josephine that she later sold to the Orléans family.¹ Assuming these are the same sapphires, that would make Josephine the first traceable owner.

But what if they’re not the same sapphires?

In a book published in 1999, Prince Jacques d’Orléans says “family legend has it that the stones belonged to Marie Antoinette.”² He says the first record of these sapphires dates back to 1791, when Marie Antoinette’s jewels were inventoried by three members of the National Assembly.

According to Prince Jacques, the sapphires surfaced again in 1809, when Napoleon had them set with diamonds for Hortense at the time of her marriage. Now, Hortense didn’t get married in 1809 – the actual year was 1802.

And in her memoir, she says Napoleon gave her a set of diamonds that included a necklace, earrings, and bracelet, but she doesn’t mention any sapphires or a tiara.³ I also find it odd that Jacques’s mother, who wrote about these sapphires in a biography of her own great-great grandmother, never mentioned their possible connection to Marie Antoinette.

We may never know how these sapphires came into the hands of these French royal families. But we do know who wore them, so let’s move on and meet them.

Queen Hortense

At the height of his power, Napoleon Bonaparte made his brother Louis King of Holland – which made Hortense its queen. But the situation didn’t pan out the way Napoleon wanted. For starters, Louis and Hortense had only married due to family pressure and would have separated in a heartbeat if Napoleon had allowed it.

It was Josephine who had put enormous pressure on her daughter to marry Louis in the first place. She knew it was unlikely she could give Napoleon an heir, so she suggested they adopt one who shared their bloodline – a future child of Hortense and Louis. She asked Napoleon’s friend and private secretary Bourrienne to make sure her daughter knew how much was riding on her decision. Bourrienne did his best to convince the unwilling bride. He said, “…intrigues are constantly being formed to persuade the Consul to obtain a divorce. Only your marriage can tighten and strengthen those bonds on which depends your mother’s happiness. Will you hesitate?”⁴

“Only your marriage can tighten and strengthen those bonds on which depends your mother’s happiness. Will you hesitate?”

Bourrienne to Hortense

It was nothing short of emotional blackmail – and it worked.

Although the marriage saved Josephine’s place at Napoleon’s side, it ruined her daughter’s life. She was sweet and gentle, ready to do anything to please the people she cared about. Louis was a hypochondriac, seething with jealousy and insecurity. One day, when Louis had a friend over, he saw Hortense laughing at his friend’s joke. He yelled at her, “Do you believe I am prepared to be treated as though I were a clown? I warn you only a woman of light morals dares laugh at her husband and make sport of him. I would rather leave you than allow myself to be thus humiliated.”⁵

Because of Louis, his wife became a shadow of her former self. Only when he was gone could she relax with her mother or her friends. As if he knew, he tried as often as possible to separate her from them. He paid spies to follow any men she danced with at balls. He threatened never to see her again if their first baby was premature, as he felt that would lead to gossip about the baby being conceived before their wedding.⁶

Even Napoleon could see how bad a husband Louis was. He said, “You do not deserve such a wife…You should be at her knees, caring for her, cherishing her; instead of that you hurt her.”⁷

“You do not deserve such a wife…You should be at her knees, caring for her, cherishing her; instead of that you hurt her.”

Napoleon Bonaparte to his brother, Louis

Years later, in her memoir, Hortense wrote, “My only sentiment towards Louis became one of fear. I dared no longer smile or speak in his presence. It always seemed to me he was on the point of losing his temper.”⁸

Despite their unhappy marriage, the couple had three sons, two of whom survived infancy. They would become a weapon for Louis to use against his wife. When their four-year-old failed to wish Louis a happy birthday, he assumed it was because Hortense had put him up to it. He told her, “It is a consolation to live far from you, to have nothing to discuss with you, nothing to do with you, nothing to expect from you.”⁹

Then, in 1806, Napoleon gave Louis the crown of Holland. Hortense didn’t want a crown or to live so far from her mother, but she had no choice. When her oldest son died of croup, she seemed to lose her will to live. Her doctor prescribed travel, and she took her two surviving sons back to France. When Louis asked her to return, she replied, “I can’t make you happy, so let me live in peace. Don’t think of me anymore. Think of me as dead.”¹⁰

“I can’t make you happy, so let me live in peace. Don’t think of me anymore. Think of me as dead.”

Hortense to Louis

Soon, Louis realized more than his marriage was falling apart. Napoleon’s blockade of Britain was bankrupting his Dutch subjects, who depended on trade for their income. He did the right thing for them and ignored his brother’s orders relative to the blockade. In retaliation, Napoleon sent troops to retake the country. Louis abdicated in a hurry and fled to Austria. Luckily, Napoleon had a soft spot for Hortense and allowed her and her sons to stay in Paris.¹¹ As long as Napoleon was in power, she would never have to worry about money or providing for her children.

All that security vanished after Napoleon’s abdication in 1814.

Fortunately, Napoleon’s enemies understood that she and Josephine weren’t the problem. They awarded both women financial support, although Josephine died on May 29, while the transition from one regime to the next was still taking place. Hortense and her brother inherited Josephine’s debts to the tune of 3,000,000 francs.¹² They borrowed money to pay that debt, gave away Josephine’s possessions to her loyal staff members, then divided her artwork and jewels between them.¹³

Then, when Napoleon escaped from exile in Elba in 1815, the ever-loyal Hortense rallied to his side. As for Louis, he said he would only come back if he could divorce Hortense and take the children.¹⁴ To his credit, Napoleon refused.

But her loyalty would cost Hortense dearly. After Waterloo, supporters of the newly restored Louis XVIII threatened her, believing anyone who had supported Napoleon was just as guilty of causing more war and strife. The tsar of Russia, who had supported her in 1814, now refused to see her.¹⁵

In her memoir, she wrote, “I felt an atmosphere of hatred and revenge all about me…Their animosity has pursued me everywhere.”¹⁶

“I felt an atmosphere of hatred and revenge all about me…Their animosity has pursued me everywhere.”

Hortense

To protect herself and her sons, she fled to Switzerland and then Savoy. She left her jewels with a friend, since she’d been warned she might be robbed during her journey. That friend took them to her lawyer in Paris for safe keeping.¹⁷

Unfortunately, her situation soon went from bad to worse. Louis sent his lawyer to Savoy with orders to take their oldest son away from her and bring him to Italy, where Louis had settled.¹⁸ She tried to fight it, but the law came down on the side of a father’s rights.

Then, to make matters worse, the authorities of Savoy asked her to leave. She was politically toxic, a rallying point for Napoleonic die-hards who might cause further political disturbances.

She had no choice but to rely on what little family she had left: her cousin was the Grand Duchess of Baden and her brother was married to the King of Bavaria’s daughter. After drifting between those two courts, she finally settled with her younger son in Switzerland, where she bought a villa with a view of Lake Constance.

She continued writing her memoir, which she’d begun after leaving France. She wrote, “Having been disappointed in everything I shall seek to create my own happiness without counting on anything or anybody else. I shall love my fellow beings, I shall do what I can to help them, I shall expect no gratitude.”¹⁹

“Having been disappointed in everything I shall seek to create my own happiness without counting on anything or anybody else.”

Hortense in exile

She developed a new routine: summers in Switzerland and winters in Rome, so her two sons could see each other. Every year between 1818 and 1835, she sold a portion of her jewels and invested the money in different countries, never trusting all her money in one place.²⁰ That’s how our sapphires changed hands in 1821, six years after the former Queen of Holland left France.

Queen Marie-Amélie

On October 9, 1821, the 39-year-old Duchess of Orléans, Marie-Amélie, met a woman acting as a broker for the former Queen of Holland. She was selling what Marie-Amélie called “some superb pieces, including a set with brilliants and sapphires.”²¹ Marie-Amélie wanted to buy the sapphires, and – for the first time in nearly her entire life – she was stable enough to do so.

She had been born a princess of Bourbon-Two Sicilies in 1782, a kingdom that included the island of Sicily and the southern portion of present-day Italy, with its capital in Naples.

She was the fourth daughter of King Ferdinand IV and Queen Maria Carolina, the favorite sister of Marie Antoinette. The years of the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars were not kind to King Ferdinand and Queen Maria Carolina. After years spent guarding against a French invasion by sea, they were horrified when Napoleon invaded by land and forced them out of Naples.

The family retreated to Sicily, where their reduced circumstances made it hard for the queen to find husbands for her three single daughters.²² She tried to marry Marie-Amélie to the King of Spain’s eldest son, but the Spanish wanted her daughter Antoinette instead.²³

Forced to marry a man who repulsed her, Antoinette wrote home to her sister, “Oh my Amélie, my darling, you who still possess your freedom, listen to your sister’s advice: whatever marriage is proposed to you, if you know neither the country nor the husband, refuse it! If necessary, take refuge instead in the depths of a convent…”²⁴

“…listen to your sister’s advice: whatever marriage is proposed to you, if you know neither the country nor the husband, refuse it!”

Antoinette to her sister, Marie-Amélie

Marie-Amélie took her sister’s message to heart, but at the same time, she was now 26 and increasingly afraid she would never have a life and family of her own.

And then, in 1808, 34-year-old Louis-Philippe, the duke of Orléans, arrived in Sicily. He was a member of the junior line of the French royal family, that line that had been irreparably tarnished by Louis-Philippe’s father, who had voted for the death of his own cousin, Louis XVI, during the French Revolution. At first, Queen Maria Carolina didn’t even want to see him. But Louis-Philippe was a different man than his father, and he came with the backing of the British government, which had supported Maria Carolina in her fight against France.

Marie-Amélie sensed something momentous was about to happen. She wrote in her diary, “Clearly seeing the hand of God in the unexpected arrival of the Duc of Orléans in this island…I thought we were destined to make the happiness of each other’s lives.”²⁵

“I thought we were destined to make the happiness of each other’s lives.”

Marie-Amélie on Louis-Philippe

It wasn’t love at first sight, but the prospective bride and groom each represented what the other most wanted. She wanted a husband who would be kind and caring. He wanted an indisputably royal bride to help his family rehabilitate its reputation.

But that wasn’t enough for Queen Maria Carolina. After the death of her daughter Antoinette in Spain, she wanted Marie-Amélie to take her dead sister’s place. Becoming the future queen of Spain was much more prestigious than becoming the wife of a man with no money except a pension paid by the British government.²⁶

But our normally mild-mannered Neapolitan princess put her foot down and said, “I prefer the Duke of Orléans…a thousand times over, to Ferdinand VII, even with all the grandeur of Spain!”²⁷

“I prefer the Duke of Orléans…a thousand times over, to Ferdinand VII, even with all the grandeur of Spain!”

Marie-Amélie

When she threatened to become a nun, as her sister’s letter had advised her to do, her mother finally gave in.²⁸ The couple married in 1809 and lived in Sicily, far too close to Maria Carolina for Louis-Philippe’s liking but without enough money to do anything about it.²⁹

Although they returned to France after Napoleon’s first abdication, they fled in disguise with false passports during Napoleon’s hundred-day-return in 1815.³⁰ They stayed in England for two long years, during which Marie-Amélie bemoaned the lack of pasta in England. Her husband ordered crates of macaroni from Italy just for her.³¹

Finally, in 1817, Louis-Philippe decided France was stable enough for them to return.³² But the restored monarch, Louis the Eighteenth, didn’t like or trust Louis-Philippe. He awarded Marie-Amélie the title of Royal Highness, but denied it to her husband. When they came to court, both of the double doors were thrown open for Marie-Amélie, then one was closed for her husband to walk through.³³

This was the period when she spotted the sapphire and diamond jewels up for sale. When she told Louis-Philippe she wanted them, he paid all 160,000 francs of the asking price. Of the purchase, he said, “Remember that we, too, were once poor.”³⁴

“Remember that we, too, were once poor.”

Louis-Philippe, upon purchasing these sapphires from Hortense

Three years later, in 1824, Louis XVIII died of complications from diabetes and the throne passed to his brother, now Charles X.³⁵ The six years of that reign were the happiest of her life. With no real role to play in the government, she could focus on her growing family. She had ten children, eight of whom survived to adulthood. She would later share her home remedy for morning sickness, which she said worked like a charm during all of her pregnancies: three drops of rum in a big glass of water.³⁶

And then came 1830.

The king had decided that what France needed was to go back to the good old days of absolute monarchy. So, on July 25, he suspended freedom of the press, dissolved the newly elected assembly, and revised electoral law so fewer people could vote.³⁷

Those choices sparked a revolution. The stock market collapsed, rioters built barricades in the streets of Paris, and a mob stormed the royal palace.

Amidst all the confusion, a group of political influencers came to Louis-Philippe and told him his time had come – they wanted him at the head of a new government. If he was willing to accept a constitution, the crown was his.³⁸

Much to Marie-Amélie’s horror, Louis-Philippe accepted. To make it clear that he wasn’t just picking up his royal cousins’ sloppy seconds, he took the title “King of the French” instead of the traditional “King of France.”³⁹

Marie-Amélie knew better. She understood the rest of the world would view them as usurpers, which is exactly what happened. She wrote, “My heart is broken. I am sustained by the thought that my good, my excellent husband is sacrificing himself to serve his country.”⁴⁰ She was so haunted by guilt that she never touched the collection of crown jewels. She wore only her personal jewels, including these sapphires.

The family moved into the Tuileries, where Louis-Philippe had a moat dug under the windows to help protect against mob violence.⁴¹ Safety was a concern throughout their reign. Every night as they went to bed, Louis-Philippe placed two loaded pistols on their nightstands.⁴² Over the years, Louis-Philippe would survive so many assassination attempts that he only traveled in an armored carriage built for Napoleon.⁴³ He once said, “the hunt for the king is the only one in France open all year round.”⁴⁴

Through all the chaos, Marie-Amélie focused on charity and family life. Most afternoons, she and the kids played billiards. Every player had to make a bet, and the winner donated the cash to the charity of their choice.⁴⁵ One day, when a minister came to talk to the king, he found Marie-Amélie clipping Louis-Philippe’s toenails. She said, “I’ve always enjoyed doing these favors for my dear husband and didn’t want to give them up.”⁴⁶

“I’ve always enjoyed doing these favors for my dear husband and didn’t want to give them up.”

Marie-Amélie on clipping her husband’s toenails

As the years passed, her children grew up, got married, and began starting families of their own. Not surprisingly, she began thinking of what she might be able to leave them when she was gone. At some point around 1839, she decided to enlarge her set of sapphire and diamond jewelry.

She shrunk the tiara, removing four elements to provide the stones to create additional pieces. When she was finished, she had two sapphire and diamond sets: one with pearls and one without.⁴⁷ This is what the second set looks like, including a tiara, drop earrings, three brooches, and a belt buckle.

You can see both sets of sapphires in the painting above. The new tiara is pinned to her hat, while the original tiara is broken up into dress ornaments on her skirt. She’s also wearing the original necklace and earrings.

Over the years, the stability their new dynasty worked hard to create was undermined by famine, a deficit, financial scandals, and increasingly corrupt elections.⁴⁸ Then, in the summer of 1842, their oldest son and heir died of a head injury after a freak carriage accident. When her son’s coffin was displayed, she flung herself over it and sobbed endlessly. Louis-Philippe had to pull her away and drag her outside.⁴⁹ She said, “God is punishing me…I loved him too much!”⁵⁰

“God is punishing me…I loved him too much!”

Marie-Amélie after her eldest son’s death

After the funeral, her husband slowly withdrew from public life, becoming less aware of how things were changing around him.

In early 1848, when calls for reform grew louder, Louis-Philippe and his ministers didn’t listen. The political opposition held meetings in the form of banquets, so the government banned a banquet scheduled in Paris for February 22. Instantly, many students, workers, and unemployed people took to the streets to protest.

Louis-Philippe simply looked out the window at the pouring rain and said, “You don’t start a revolution in winter.”⁵¹

“You don’t start a revolution in winter.”

Louis-Philippe

But that’s exactly what happened. The queen urged her 74-year-old husband to put himself at the head of the troops and face the rioters head-on. To her, honor was more important than their lives.

But Louis-Philippe didn’t want to spill French blood, even to save his crown. When a cannon ball smashed the roof of the palace, Louis-Philippe finally understood that his family was in real danger.⁵² He signed an abdication document and, moments later, he, Marie-Amélie, and a handful of their kids and grandkids fled by carriage with nothing but 15 francs, scrounged from the pocket of a coat.⁵³

The family fled to England, settling in and near Claremont, an 18^th century mansion in Surrey.⁵⁴ Our now former queen said, “It’s not the throne I miss, nor my diamonds; it’s my memories…Just think, I only have one portrait of the Duke of Orléans; and it’s not even a good likeness!”⁵⁵ Just two years later, Louis-Philippe died at age 77.

“It’s not the throne I miss, nor my diamonds; it’s my memories.”

Marie-Amélie in exile

Then, in early 1852, the new president of the French Republic – soon to be Emperor Napoleon III – issued a decree confiscating their family’s private estates. In addition to being banished, no member of the Orléans family could own property in France.⁵⁶ Forced to sell everything, Marie-Amélie’s sons protected what they could through fictitious sales to friends. In a display of family unity that made her proud, her children divided the proceeds evenly among themselves.⁵⁷

Marie-Amélie’s thoughts soon turned once again to what she would be able to leave her children and grandchildren.

In 1864, two of her grandchildren got married: the son of her eldest son, 25-year-old Louis-Philippe-Albert married the 15-year-old daughter of her youngest son, Princess Marie Isabelle of Orléans. As a wedding present, Marie-Amélie gave Isabelle her original sapphire parure.⁵⁸

To follow these sapphires, it’s time to shift our story to Philippe and Isabelle. Marie-Amélie would die two years after their wedding in 1866.

Philippe and Isabelle

Philippe had only been nine years old when the revolution of 1848 swept his grandfather from the throne. Instead of growing up as a future king, Philippe grew up in exile. Since the heir to the throne traditionally joined the military as an occupation, Philippe and his younger brother did just that – in America. In 1861, during the Civil War, they joined the Union Army as aides to General McClellan, delivering messages and participating in several battles in Virginia.⁵⁹

In his memoir, McClellan described Philippe as “calm, thoughtful, and self-controlled…[with] the qualities of a politician and head of state…”⁶⁰ In 1863, Philippe returned to England, but he never forgot his experience in America and toiled for 20 years on a six-volume history of the Civil War.⁶¹

In 1864, 25-year-old Philippe married his 15-year-old cousin Isabelle, despite Marie-Amélie’s worry that the bride was too young. As we’ve seen, Marie-Amélie gave the bride her sapphire tiara, necklace, earrings, and brooch. The couple moved into York House in Twickenham, a red-brick mansion near the rest of the exiled Orléans family members. Their first three children were born there during their years of exile.

It was a very happy marriage, and they would go on to have six children altogether. Many of their friends later said how calm and happy their home was, with Philippe content to read and write in his study while Isabelle ran the household.

Then, in 1871, after the French defeat in the Franco-Prussian War and the fall of Emperor Napoleon III, the new Third Republic allowed the Orléans family to return to France. It also overturned the Confiscation Act, allowing the family to own property once more.⁶² Philippe and Isabelle moved back home and divided their time between Normandy, Amboise, and Paris. Several years later, Philippe felt secure enough in France to move the coffins of family members who had died in exile in England to the family chapel at Dreux.⁶³

The family’s fortunes seemed on the rise, especially after 1883, when the last male heir of their senior Bourbon cousins died. Now, supporters of both branches of the family could throw their combined support behind Philippe in the event of a restored monarchy.

As a result, Philippe and Isabelle didn’t have the problems Marie-Amélie had when it came time to marry off their children. Their oldest daughter, Amélie, married the Crown Prince of Portugal with all the pomp and ceremony of a ruling sovereign’s daughter.

But it was their lavish display of wealth and growing political influence that scared members of France’s republican government. In 1886, the Senate voted to re-establish the Law of Exile with 315 votes to 232.⁶⁴ The head of the family and his direct heir were forever forbidden from French soil. Other members of the family could stay, but couldn’t hold public office or serve in the military.⁶⁵

Philippe and his oldest son had to leave for England immediately.

Over 20,000 people lined his path to the port where he boarded a steamship. He called to the cheering crowd, “Long live France!” and issued a statement saying, “The Republic is afraid; by striking me, it singles me out. I have confidence in France: when the decisive hour comes, I will be ready.”⁶⁶

“The Republic is afraid; by striking me, it singles me out. I have confidence in France: when the decisive hour comes, I will be ready.”

Philippe d’Orléans

Although not required to leave France, Isabelle chose to stay with her husband. She brought the rest of their kids over from France and moved them all into Sheen House in Richmond, not far from Twickenham. Isabelle’s courtiers convinced her that France would probably change its mind yet again, so she didn’t bother unpacking her trunks.

In England, Isabelle had no trouble living her best life. She loved hunting and the aristocratic country lifestyle. One of her British staff members described her as “the most interesting woman in the world…[she was] the best shot, and the best rider imaginable. She was very masculine. She used to smoke big cigars.”⁶⁷ Isabelle also drank brandy and swore, with the confidence that came from being a granddaughter of both Queen Marie-Amélie and Queen Maria Cristina of Spain. In her household, she ruthlessly enforced routine, punctuality, and posture. Although rumor had it she was strict to the point of abuse with her kids, another staff member said that underneath her gruff exterior, she was all heart and would do anything for her children when they were sick or needed her help.⁶⁸

In 1890, Isabelle’s father died and she inherited the remainder of her grandmother’s sapphires.⁶⁹ Since she’d already been given the first as a wedding present, now all the family’s sapphires were in the same hands. She wore them frequently, including for studio photographs like this one.

In the early 1890s, Isabelle’s husband Philippe began suffering from what was probably stomach cancer. When an operation didn’t help, he suspected his time was running out. Still, he refused to give up hope that his family might be called back to France, if not to rule then at least to serve in some capacity. But as much as he loved his homeland, he refused to be buried in France. He said, “I do not want to be buried in a place where my son cannot come and pray at my grave.”⁷⁰

“I do not want to be buried in a place where my son cannot come and pray at my grave.”

Philippe d’Orléans

Philippe died in 1894, with Isabelle and their oldest son by his side. When she heard of his death, Queen Victoria said, “his life had been one of bitter disappointment.”⁷¹

In his will, Philippe left part of the family sapphires to his eldest son, but not all of them.⁷² The rest remained with Isabelle, who survived until 1919, dividing her time between France and her homeland of Spain.

In her will, she left the remaining sapphires to her eldest son.⁷³ Just like in the previous generation, all of the family’s sapphires would be inherited by the same person, but in separate bequests decades apart.

Philippe and Mariska

Philippe and Isabelle’s oldest son was named – what else – Philippe.

He was born in Twickenham, England in 1869, during his parents’ first exile. He was only two and a half when he accompanied them to France after the Law of Exile was repealed. As a schoolboy, he made friends thanks to his easygoing manner. You might recognize the name of one his classmates: Gaston Leroux, who would go on to write the novel The Phantom of the Opera. Later, Leroux remembered Philippe and mentioned “the excellent beatings we gave him.”⁷⁴

As it turned out, Philippe wasn’t interested in school; he preferred to be outdoors, fencing, hunting, or target shooting.⁷⁵ In 1886, the reinstated Law of Exile ruined his plan to attend the French military academy of Saint-Cyr. Queen Victoria stepped in to help, allowing him to apply to Sandhurst instead.⁷⁶ After graduation, he asked to be sent to the Himalayas as a foot soldier. He said, “I was tempted by that country. It was the East, it was the unknown.”⁷⁷ As a member of the British army, he explored the mountains along the Tibetan border, Afghanistan, the Persian Gulf, and present-day Sri Lanka – which he may not have known was the source of his family’s sapphires.⁷⁸

“I was tempted by that country. It was the East, it was the unknown.”

Philippe, duc d’Orléans on the Himalayas

It wasn’t long before his parents decided it was time for him to settle down. And because they had each married a cousin, they chose a cousin named Marguerite for Philippe – the daughter of his uncle Robert. Within the family, the engagement was considered a done deal, even though Philippe wasn’t ready to settle down.

Then, in 1890, he did something both brave and foolish. He went to France and attempted to register for his mandatory military service. Because his presence violated the Law of Exile, he was immediately arrested. On the day of his trial, Philippe said, “I love my country. Is that a crime? I wanted to serve France in the regiment… Is that a crime? No. Therefore, I am not guilty, and I do not need to be defended.”⁷⁹

“I love my country. Is that a crime?”

Philippe, duc d’Orléans

He was sentenced to two years in prison, but instead of punishing the family, the sentence made them appear noble, devoted, and self-sacrificing. That wasn’t what the government wanted at all, so they released Philippe and deported him to Switzerland.⁸⁰ When he returned to England, his father met him at Dover and said, “…you are a brave one, you have done your duty; I am happy, I am proud of you.”⁸¹

But his father wasn’t so proud when Philippe took off for London to party and began an affair with the married Australian opera singer, Nellie Melba.

Philippe didn’t have the heart to tell Marguerite or his parents about Nellie, so he broke his engagement on the grounds that he and Marguerite were too closely related.⁸² Then, traveling incognito, he followed Nellie to St. Petersburg and Vienna. Everywhere they went, the tabloids had a field day.

Nellie’s husband sued Philippe for 500,000 francs, and her brother-in-law challenged him to a duel, which his father refused to let him fight.⁸³ Then, all of a sudden, the affair appeared to end. Philippe wouldn’t see Nellie for another 30 years. But when he did, he called her “the only faithful and loyal friend that…my soul and my heart could reach across space.”⁸⁴

But Philippe’s priorities changed forever when his father died in 1894, making him the head of the family. He realized it was finally time for him to grow up. At his father’s funeral, he told 1,000 mourners, “Although still young, I am aware of my duties: with my great love for France, I will devote all my strength and energy to accomplishing them…” The crowd chanted back, “Long live the king!”⁸⁵

As a responsible pretender to the throne, he knew he had to get married and produce an heir. In 1896, he married Archduchess Maria Dorothea, nicknamed Mariska.

She was the 29-year-old daughter of Archduke Joseph, Palatine of Hungary – as well as Philippe’s second cousin. After an initial meeting, where they were attracted to each other, he slipped a ruby engagement ring on her finger.⁸⁶ Their Vienna wedding was a glittering affair attended by Emperor Franz Josef and covered by Vogue magazine.⁸⁷ The new couple settled in England, dividing their time between York House in Twickenham and Wood Norton, a hunting estate in Worcestershire.

Here’s an interesting bit of trivia about Philippe. In September of 1898, he was in Geneva, Switzerland. Unbeknownst to him, he had been targeted by an assassin. But the assassin lost track of him and decided to murder the next royal he could find. You might have already guessed that the next target was Empress Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary and the assassin was Luigi Lucheni.⁸⁸

But although Philippe was lucky in Geneva, he was less lucky in love. Despite the fact that he and Mariska were initially attracted to each other, something went wrong in their marriage. In 1904 – eight years after the wedding – a newspaper reported that Philippe asked the Vatican if his marriage could be annulled.

Since he’d married to continue his family line, the problem may have been that he and Mariska remained childless. Another contributing factor could have been Philippe’s restlessness. After all, “king-in-waiting” wasn’t the most fulfilling career path in life. He left on frequent trips and hunting expeditions, sometimes without Mariska.⁸⁹ He took her to the Spitsbergen, a Norwegian island in the Arctic Ocean. But then he went alone to Greenland, the Bering Strait, and the Arctic.⁹⁰

Despite their troubled relationship, Mariska still appeared at family functions to act as Philippe’s hostess. There’s also a paper trail for Mariska wearing the family sapphires. One reference appeared in a British newspaper in 1899, when the writer was given a tour of York House, including Mariska’s art studio. Her décor included a pastel portrait of herself and ”sapphires which had belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette.” This was the first mention I found of the sapphires having any potential connection to Marie Antoinette, but it wouldn’t be the last.⁹¹

Eight years later, in 1907, she attended the wedding of her sister-in-law, Princess Louise, wearing “a high crown of sapphire and diamonds,” with additional matching jewels. Of course, because her husband owned both sets of sapphires, we can’t be sure which she was wearing.⁹²

It’s not clear who chose to make the split, but in 1911, Mariska left Philippe and moved back to Hungary, where she had been born and raised.⁹³ Philippe went there twice to convince her to come back, but he returned empty-handed.⁹⁴ A newspaper article said that Emperor Franz Josef tried to convince her to take Philippe back, with no luck.⁹⁵ This time, there would be no reconciliation.

Now alone, Philippe devoted his time to politics. Although he couldn’t live in France, he kept an office in Paris with staff who updated him on the latest government news. He sold York House, preferring to live in Sicily or Spain. In 1914, ten days before the outbreak of World War I, he bought a property in Brussels, Belgium. When German soldiers crossed the Belgian border, Philippe fled to England yet again.⁹⁶ He was surprised and upset when Mariska chose to remain in Hungary, which was now an enemy of France. He asked to fight for France, Russia, and Belgium, but they all refused.⁹⁷ In the end, he volunteered to care for the wounded in British hospitals.

Even during the war, he was still bothered by the fact that he didn’t have a son and heir. In 1916, he asked Pope Benedict XV to annul his marriage to Mariska.

A commission of cardinals refused that request in December of 1918.⁹⁸ Also that year, Mariska sued for back alimony and reimbursement of her living expenses since their split in 1911.⁹⁹ It’s unclear whether she received any money.

Philippe died childless in 1926. In his will, he said, “I direct that the Archduchess Marie Dorothea shall get nothing whatever from my estate; I deprive her of all right whatsoever…”¹⁰⁰ Interestingly, in that will, he described the family sapphires as formerly belonging to Marie Antoinette.¹⁰¹

“I direct that the Archduchess Marie Dorothea shall get nothing whatever from my estate; I deprive her of all right whatsoever…”

Philippe, duc d’Orléans

But who would inherit them now? Our sapphires and the role of head of the family fell to a cousin – one who had married Philippe’s sister.

Jean and Isabelle

The new head of the house of Orléans was Prince Jean, Philippe’s cousin. His parents were Philippe’s uncle Robert, the Duke of Chartres and Princess Françoise of Orléans, her husband’s first cousin.

Born in 1874, Jean had been allowed to grow up in France because neither he nor his father was the current pretender or a direct male heir. He was, however, forbidden from joining the French military. So his parents enrolled him in military school in Denmark instead.¹⁰² Why Denmark, you ask? Because his older sister, Marie, had already married into the Danish royal family. Jean was in officer training in Denmark from 1894-1896, after which he became a second lieutenant in the king’s guard, a post only available to soldiers over six feet tall.¹⁰³ He was later promoted to first lieutenant and took more classes in engineering and officer training.

Unlike his restless cousin Philippe, Jean needed no prompting to get married. He left the Danish army in 1899, and while home in France, told his parents exactly who he wanted to marry: his first cousin, Philippe’s sister Isabelle.¹⁰⁴

After spending time with Isabelle, Jean’s mother wrote, “She takes life seriously, and I believe Jean will have a true companion.”¹⁰⁵

“She takes life seriously, and I believe Jean will have a true companion.”

Princess Françoise of Orléans on her future daughter-in-law, isabelle

It was only by chance she was still single, since Prince Albert of Belgium had wanted to marry her two years earlier. However, his uncle, King Leopold II, refused to allow it, since he didn’t want to jeopardize his country’s relationship with the French republic.

Jean and Isabelle married in October of 1899. His parents set up a country estate for them, and gave them rooms in their Paris mansion to help the newlyweds save money. Isabelle was thrilled to be able to live in France full-time with her new husband, and aunt and uncle who were now her parents-in-law. Between 1900 and 1906, the couple had three daughters, and then – in 1908 – a son whom they named Henri.¹⁰⁶

But as much as they loved France, they were also a little bored with their quiet life. They craved adventure, so in 1909, less than a year after their son was born, they decided to move to Morocco. Jean went first and bought land to start a farm. Isabelle and their four children followed. Together, they all worked the farm, raising livestock and crops, and eventually built a house outside Larache.¹⁰⁷

Six years after their move, World War I broke out. Jean left Isabelle in charge of the farm in Morocco and asked France, Britain, and Belgium for permission to join their armies. They all refused. In the end, France allowed him to serve in several military hospitals, as well as carry out a mission for the Red Cross in Egypt.¹⁰⁸ Jean operated a canteen near the front for 17 months, where he was often bombarded by the Germans. After the war in 1919, he was awarded the Croix de Guerre for his service.¹⁰⁹

In the years between World War I and World War II, he and Isabelle split their time between Morocco and France. But his quiet life as an amateur historian and archaeologist ended in 1926, when his cousin Philippe died and he became head of the family and claimant to the French throne.

The role of pretender wasn’t one he particularly wanted. He was happy being a farmer, but Isabelle convinced him they owed it to their son to keep the possibility of a restored monarchy alive.¹¹⁰ To stay relatively near Paris without violating the law of exile, they moved into Philippe’s old home in Brussels, Belgium.¹¹¹ From there, Jean kept tabs on French politics, but his heart wasn’t truly in it.

Because Jean couldn’t set foot in France, Isabelle took up the mantle of public appearances. In 1926, she appeared in Paris for a requiem mass.¹¹² Two years later, she was back for celebrations honoring Joan of Arc. A passing crowd gave the cheer, “Long live the Queen!”¹¹³

In these years, I found two mentions of Isabelle having worn our sapphires. She wore them in 1928, when her daughter Anne married Prince Amedeo of Savoy, and again in 1931, when her only son Henri married Princess Isabelle of Orléans-Braganza.¹¹⁴

During these inter-war years, she also organized charity benefits and published a full-page article in a British newspaper on the role women could play in government. She wrote, “…the country that knows how to utilize, for purposes of propaganda, its most prominent feminine personalities – personalities who are the living incarnation of their country’s ideals – will acquire great strength in times of need.”¹¹⁵ As for the right time to switch back to a monarchy, she said, “We have to wait until the republic is tottering under the weight of some crisis.”¹¹⁶

“…the country that knows how to utilize…its most prominent feminine personalities…will acquire great strength in times of need.”

Isabelle d’Orléans, duchesse de Guise

As you might have guessed, “some crisis” arrived in the form of the Nazis. When France fell to Hitler’s armies in 1940, suddenly people began to wonder: could the monarchy return? What if that was Hitler’s plan for France?

But Jean and Isabelle didn’t stick around to be captured or become puppet monarchs. They left for Morocco, where Jean died in 1940 at age 66.

Isabelle remained in their home with her beloved basset hound Boby.¹¹⁷ We can get a brief glimpse of her life in the memoir of her daughter-in-law, who wrote, “When I recall the memory of my mother-in-law, the image of an enchanting fairy always arises. In Larache, she was able to unleash…her wonderful qualities: an incomparable charm—she could have fascinated pebbles—a wit and humor that meant one was never bored in her company. Larache was her true home, where, without seeming to, she could run everything as she pleased.”¹¹⁸

Isabelle spent most of her time doing charity work, and founded an institution to help underprivileged children called Casa del Niño.¹¹⁹ She entertained frequently, inviting everyone from visiting royal relatives to the Spanish soldiers in the nearby garrison. There were so many relatives coming and going, along with their kids and staff, that Isabelle called her home “the Minotaur” for the way it swallowed up so many visitors.¹²⁰ She died there in 1961 at age 82.

And now we come to the last of the family to inherit these sapphires – the man who would later sell them to the Louvre.

Henri and Isabelle

When Prince Jean died in 1940, his only son, Henri, inherited these sapphires and his family’s ongoing claim to the throne.

Although Henri had been born in France in 1908, he grew up on his parents’ farm in Morocco and went to college in Belgium, at the University of Louvain. While in Brussels, he trained with French and Belgian pilots and earned his French Air Force pilot’s license.¹²¹ As soon as his father inherited the Orléans claim to the throne, however, the Law of Exile applied to him and he could no longer set foot in France.

In 1931, 23-year-old Henri married his third cousin, 19-year-old Princess Isabelle of Orléans-Braganza, nicknamed “Bébelle” by a grandfather who said there were already too many Isabelles in the family.¹²²

She was the great-granddaughter of the last emperor of Brazil and a great-great-granddaughter of Marie-Amélie. Isabelle and Henri had met as children, but it was only when teenage Henri told stories about his life in Morocco that 12-year-old Isabelle began to notice him. One day, he found her crying in a hallway at his grandmother’s house. Her mom had taken away an ugly hat she absolutely loved, and when he persuaded her mom to give it back, Isabelle decided this was the boy she wanted to marry.¹²³

She got her wish in 1931. The couple married in Sicily, in the same church where their ancestors had said their vows. They spent their honeymoon in Sicily and Rome, and Isabelle later learned that the Mafia had given orders that they be welcomed and treated well.¹²⁴ The newlyweds settled in Belgium with his parents, and would go on to have 11 children in 16 years.

Many years later, Isabelle would describe her husband as “rather cheerful, certainly a joker and very playful…He was also very jealous, and he remained so.”¹²⁵

Henri was “rather cheerful, certainly a joker and very playful…He was also very jealous, and he remained so.”

Isabelle, comtesse de paris

He also had a tendency to nitpick her math when it came to the household budget.¹²⁶ One of his best party tricks was the ability to light a cigarette with his feet, which he did once in front of King Albert of Belgium.¹²⁷ As for Isabelle, she was relentlessly positive, funny, talkative, and gorgeous, referred to in the press as the most beautiful woman in Europe.¹²⁸

Henri took his role as king-in-waiting seriously. He had long meetings with French royalists who crossed the border into Belgium for closed-door meetings that didn’t include Isabelle.¹²⁹ Although she later said she would have done more to help him, her husband wouldn’t allow it.¹³⁰ Quiet by nature, he felt his talkative wife couldn’t keep a secret.¹³¹

Early in 1939, just before World War II broke out, the family moved to Brazil. A few months later, the Nazis invaded Poland. Henri returned to Europe, leaving a pregnant Isabelle and their five kids in Brazil with her parents. But, just like had happened to his father, France wouldn’t allow him to serve in the army. However, they turned a blind eye when he pretended to be Swiss and signed up for the French Foreign Legion.¹³² But, after what seemed like progress, he had two quick setbacks. First, France surrendered to Germany before he had completed basic training, so he was quickly demobilized. Second, his father passed away in Morocco.¹³³

When Isabelle saw him again, she found him forever changed. She wrote, “The anguish of seeing his country caught in such chaos, his epic stint in the Foreign Legion, the death of the Duke of Guise, and the responsibilities as head of the family that then fell upon him, all of this had burned him, and he had become a man of steel, a steel that each year made a little harder.”¹³⁴

“The anguish of seeing his country caught in such chaos…had burned him, and he had become a man of steel, a steel that each year made a little harder.”

Isabelle, comtesse de paris

But Henri wasn’t just harder – he was restless. After his father’s funeral in 1940, he and Isabelle moved the family to Morocco. Then, in 1943, they moved again, choosing neutral Spain as their destination. Isabelle chalked it up to her husband’s political ambition and desire to be closer to France.¹³⁵ There was just one hiccup. Henri and Isabelle had gone ahead to pick out a place to live in Pamplona, but the kids were stuck in Morocco, unable to get a travel pass.

Henri’s sister Françoise asked an American military contact for help multiple times, with no luck. Finally, fed up with the bureaucracy, she said, “But if you really want to annoy the Count of Paris, send his nine children back!” That did the trick, and the officer immediately granted the kids permission to leave Morocco.¹³⁶

“But if you really want to annoy the Count of Paris, send his nine children back!”

Princess Françoise d’Orléans

The family rode out the rest of the war in Spain before Henri’s restlessness kicked in again and they moved to Portugal. As they approached Lisbon, Isabelle had a realization: she and her husband were drifting apart. He was focused on politics, with little room for anything or anyone else. She later wrote, “…I had so much to do with my family that I hadn’t realized that his entire life as a man had gradually crystallized into a separate block from ours…”¹³⁷

In 1947, Henri went to Sicily to try and salvage some possessions from the family palace, which had been looted by multiple armies during World War II. His Italian lawyer suggested he ask the Mafia for help. Isabelle says she believes he met Lucky Luciano, and after that meeting, his possessions magically reappeared, including a grand piano.¹³⁸

Although Henri’s political maneuvering had driven a wedge between him and Isabelle, it finally paid off in 1950: the French government repealed the Law of Exile. His daughter, Isabelle, at school in France, called to give him the good news.¹³⁹

After their return, the family set up a foundation to help preserve their history and their Loire Valley chateau of Amboise. Henri also set up a think tank, charged with researching political and economic problems.¹⁴⁰ He met frequently with French President Charles de Gaulle, and there was a time when it seemed de Gaulle was ready to name Henri as his successor, the next president of France.¹⁴¹

Long story short: it didn’t happen.

Over the years, the family’s money began to dry up. Providing for 11 children was hard, and Henri had spent a lot on publicity, trying to generate support for a restored monarchy. To him, the easiest solution was to sell some of their possessions, including the family jewels.

But five of his children didn’t agree. In the early 1980s, they took out injunctions to keep him from selling the jewels they believed should stay within France, and for now at least, within the family. But the courts eventually sided with the head of the family. The jewels were his to do with as he wished.¹⁴²

In 1984, Isabelle wore these sapphires for the last time, to the wedding of Princess Astrid of Belgium.¹⁴³

In 1985, Henri decided to sell the first sapphire set, the one originally purchased from Hortense. He contacted Sotheby’s, who agreed to sell the jewels in Geneva. But before the sapphires left the country, curators from the Louvre reached out and said they wanted to buy them to keep them in France. Henri decided to sell them for the lowest estimate Sotheby’s had provided.¹⁴⁴ The Louvre paid five million francs, or something near $533,000.¹⁴⁵  That’s how these sapphires came to be on display in the Gallery of Apollo, where they were stolen in October of 2025.

But there’s one more strange twist to the story. Just before Henri died in 1999, his son Jacques published a book called The dark affairs of the Comte de Paris. It included a very different story about these sapphires. He said his father had actually tried to smuggle the sapphire and diamond necklace from France to Geneva, with the goal of selling it secretly. When surprised Customs agents found the necklace in his suitcase, hidden in a velvet bag between two layers of socks, they could have arrested him for customs fraud. Instead, according to Jacques, President François Mitterrand bailed him out. As the cost of his help, the Count of Paris was required to sell the jewels to the Louvre at a price that was much less than he could have gotten in Switzerland.¹⁴⁶

When that book came out, Sotheby’s clapped back by saying the story wasn’t true – Henri hadn’t tried to sell the jewels secretly, nor had there been any problem with Customs. The President of Sotheby’s France chimed in to say, “…it is hard to imagine how the Count of Paris could have smuggled historic jewelry out of France, when it was common knowledge that it had been in his family for almost two centuries, to then publicly auction it in Geneva.”¹⁴⁷

“…it is hard to imagine how the Count of Paris could have smuggled historic jewelry out of France, when it was common knowledge that it had been in his family for almost two centuries, to then publicly auction it in Geneva.”

Princess Laure de Beauvau-Craon, President of Sotheby’s France

Who’s telling the truth? I’ll let you make that decision. This brings us to the theft, which happened on October 19, 2025. I find it both depressing and ironic that thieves targeted this particular set of jewels. For Queen Marie-Amélie, these sapphires were a badge of honor. She wore them because her husband had bought them with his own money – as opposed to the crown jewels, which she felt they had no right to touch. I hope these jewels can still be recovered. If they’re damaged, I hope they can be restored. And most of all, I hope they take their place in the Gallery of Apollo once more, helping the Louvre tell the story of France, one sparkle at a time.

The End

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Notes for The Louvre’s Stolen Sapphires

1. Vincent Meylan, Instagram post, 2/8/19; Meylan, Jewels, 43 ↩︎
2. Jacques d’Orléans, 196 ↩︎
3. Hortense, vol. I, 78 ↩︎
4. Hortense, vol. I, 73 ↩︎
5. Hortense, vol. I, 82 ↩︎
6. Hortense, vol. I, 98-9 ↩︎
7. Hortense, vol. I, 88 ↩︎
8. Hortense, vol. I, 83 ↩︎
9. Wright, 170 ↩︎
10. Wright, 190 ↩︎
11. Wright, 205 ↩︎
12. Hortense, vol. I, 132 ↩︎
13. Wright, 270 ↩︎
14. Wright, 300 ↩︎
15. Wright, 319 ↩︎
16. Hortense, vol. II, 269-70 ↩︎
17. Wright, 323 ↩︎
18. Wright, 326 ↩︎
19. Hortense, vol. II, 339 ↩︎
20. Meylan, Christie’s, 122 ↩︎
21. Meylan, Jewels, 42 ↩︎
22. Dyson, 51 ↩︎
23. Dyson, 61 ↩︎
24. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 75 ↩︎
25. Dyson, 70 ↩︎
26. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 109 ↩︎
27. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 110 ↩︎
28. Dyson, 104 ↩︎
29. Dyson, 71 ↩︎
30. Dyson, 145; Paris, Marie-Amélie, 165-6 ↩︎
31. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 179 ↩︎
32. Dyson, 147 ↩︎
33. Dyson, 126 ↩︎
34. Meylan, Jewels, 43 ↩︎
35. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 218 ↩︎
36. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 331 ↩︎
37. Dyson, 182; Paris, Marie-Amélie, 256 ↩︎
38. Dyson, 193 ↩︎
39. Munn, 227 ↩︎
40. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 277 ↩︎
41. Dyson, 204; Paris, Marie-Amélie, 299 ↩︎
42. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 302 ↩︎
43. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 349 ↩︎
44. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 360 ↩︎
45. Dyson, 211 ↩︎
46. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 256 ↩︎
47. Meylan, 44; Munn, 230 ↩︎
48. Dyson, 264 ↩︎
49. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 395 ↩︎
50. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 394 ↩︎
51. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 419 ↩︎
52. Dyson, 268 ↩︎
53. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 428 ↩︎
54. Paoli, 43 ↩︎
55. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 441 ↩︎
56. Dyson, 296; Paoli, 68 ↩︎
57. Paris, Marie-Amélie, 463; Paoli, 71 ↩︎
58. Meylan, Jewels, 44 ↩︎
59. Paoli, 137 ↩︎
60. ibid ↩︎
61. Hanson, 20 ↩︎
62. Hanson, 23 ↩︎
63. Hanson, 25 ↩︎
64. Paoli, 278 ↩︎
65. Paoli, 274 ↩︎
66. Paoli, 276-7 ↩︎
67. Hanson, 37 ↩︎
68. Hanson, 39 ↩︎
69. Meylan, Jewels, 48; Paoli, 164 ↩︎
70. Paoli, 214 ↩︎
71. Hanson, 86 ↩︎
72. Hanson, 229 ↩︎
73. Hanson, 229 ↩︎
74. Paoli, 288 ↩︎
75. ibid ↩︎
76. Paoli, 289 ↩︎
77. ibid ↩︎
78. “Collier de La Parure de Saphirs de La Reine Marie-Amélie et de La Reine Hortense,” Louvre ↩︎
79. Paoli, 292 ↩︎
80. Paoli, 294; Hanson, 50 ↩︎
81. Hanson, 50; Paoli, 295 ↩︎
82. Paoli, 297 ↩︎
83. Paoli, 306 ↩︎
84. Paoli, 307 ↩︎
85. Paoli, 315 ↩︎
86. Paoli, 321 ↩︎
87. Hansen, 105 ↩︎
88. Michael van Orsouw, “Sisi’s Assassin” ↩︎
89. Paoli, 344 ↩︎
90. “French Duke’s Will,” Belfast News-Letter, Sep. 20, 1926, p. 6 ↩︎
91. “Gentlewomen at Home,” Gentlewoman, Nov. 4, 1899, pp. 29-30 ↩︎
92. “Royal Wedding at Wood Norton,” Worcester Journal, Nov. 23, 1907, p. 2 ↩︎
93. Hansen, 202 ↩︎
94. Paoli, 345 ↩︎
95. “French Duke’s Will,” Belfast News-Letter, Sep. 20, 1926, p. 6 ↩︎
96. Paoli, 347, 349 ↩︎
97. Paoli, 349 ↩︎
98. Paoli, 345 ↩︎
99. “Duke’s Spiteful Will,” Reynolds’s Newspaper, Sep. 19, 1926, pp. 1, 3 ↩︎
100. “Widowed Archduchess Is Dead in Budapest,” The New York Times, April 7, 1932, p. 23 ↩︎
101. “Duke’s Spiteful Will,” Reynolds’s Newspaper, Sep. 19, 1926, pp. 1, 3 ↩︎
102. Paoli, 330 ↩︎
103. Paoli, 330-1 ↩︎
104. “Duc de Guise, Pretender to French Throne, Reported Dead,” The Scotsman, Aug. 27, 1940, p. 1 ↩︎
105.  Paoli, 332 ↩︎
106. Paoli, 341 ↩︎
107. Paris, Bonheur, 272 ↩︎
108. Paoli, 349 ↩︎
109. “Duc de Guise, Pretender to French Throne, Reported Dead,” The Scotsman, Aug. 27, 1940, p. 1 ↩︎
110. ibid ↩︎
111. “To Wed Comte de Paris,” The New York Times, Dec. 8, 1930, p. 8 ↩︎
112. “Requiem for Royalty,” Leicester Catholic News, May 22, 1926, p. 3 ↩︎
113. “‘Queen of France’ Cry in Paris,” Daily Express, May 14, 1928, p. 11 ↩︎
114. “Gilded Coaches,” Cumberland Argus, May 8, 1928, p. 4; “Isabelle Bride of Prince Henri,” Evening Star,  April 8, 1931, p. 4 ↩︎
115. Guise, Isabella, duchesse de. “Madame La Diplomate,” The Queen, Oct. 23, 1940, p. 18 ↩︎
116. “Monarchy Hovers Over Future,” The Standard-Freeholder, Jan. 28, 1938, p. 10 ↩︎
117. Paris, Bonheur, 239 ↩︎
118. Paris, Bonheur, 273 ↩︎
119. Paris, Bonheur, 290 ↩︎
120. Paris, Bonheur, 297 ↩︎
121. Paris, Bonheur, 187 ↩︎
122. Paris, Bonheur, 47 ↩︎
123. Paris, Bonheur, 138 ↩︎
124. Paris, Bonheur, 162 ↩︎
125. Paris, Bonheur, 149 ↩︎
126. Paris, Bonheur, 198 ↩︎
127. Paris, Bonheur, 165 ↩︎
128. Fenyvesi, 134 ↩︎
129. Paris, Bonheur, 166-7 ↩︎
130. Paris, Bonheur, 170 ↩︎
131. Fenyvesi, 135 ↩︎
132. Menkes, Suzy. “The Other Royals: 90 Years a King-in-Waiting,” The New York Times, July 3, 1998 ↩︎
133. Fenyvesi, 125 ↩︎
134. Paris, Bonheur, 273 ↩︎
135. Paris, Bonheur, 257 ↩︎
136. Paris, Bonheur, 300 ↩︎
137. Paris, Bonheur, 359 ↩︎
138. Paris, Bonheur, 400 ↩︎
139. “A princess tells father – Exile’s over,” Daily Express, May 18, 1950, p. 2 ↩︎
140. “Rot within the State of France,” Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, May 4, 1961, p. 7 ↩︎
141. Fenyvesi, 128 ↩︎
142. Meylan, Jewels, 50 ↩︎
143. Pineau, Elizabeth. “Count of Paris Urges Louvre Thieves to ‘Give Us Back Our Jewels.’” ↩︎
144. Meylan, Jewels, 50 ↩︎
145. Vincent Meylan Instagram posts, 2/8/19 and 10/19/25 ↩︎
146. Jacques d’Orléans, 197 ↩︎
147. Meylan, Jewels, 54 ↩︎

Sources for the Louvre’s Stolen Sapphires

Any URL after the listing for a book is a free, public domain copy you can read online. Yay! Any link in the title of a book is my Amazon affiliate link.

Books, Articles, and Websites

Bapst, Germain. Histoire des joyaux de la couronne de France d’après des documents inédits. Paris: Librairie Hachette et cie, 1889. (free at Archive.org)

Bourrienne, M. Fauvelet de. Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte. Translated by John S. Memes. New York: P.F. Collier and Son, 1901. (free at Google Books)

“Collier de La Parure de Saphirs de La Reine Marie-Amélie et de La Reine Hortense.” Louvre. Accessed November 4, 2025.

DeLorme, Eleanor P., and Bernard Chevallier, eds. Joséphine and the Arts of the Empire. Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2005. (free at Getty.edu)

Dyson, C.C. The Life of Marie Amélie, Last Queen of the French 1782-1866. New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1910. (free at Google Books)

“Everything We Know about the Louvre Jewellery Heist.” October 20, 2025. BBC.

Fenyvesi, Charles. Royalty in Exile. London: Robson Books, 1981.

Hanson, Edward W. The Wandering Princess: Princess Hélène of France, Duchess of Aosta (1871-1951). London: Fonthill Media, 2017.

Hortense, Queen. The Memoirs of Queen Hortense. Edited by Jean Hanoteau. Translated by Arthur K. Griggs. 3 vols. New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corporation, 1927. (free at Google Books: vol 1, vol 2)

Meylan, Vincent. Queens’ Jewels. New York: Assouline, 2008.

Meylan, Vincent. “The Beauharnais Sapphire Parure.” In Christie’s Magnificent Jewels: Geneva 12 May 2021. Geneva: Christie’s, 2021.

Montjouvent, Philippe de. Le comte de Paris et sa descendance. Charenton: Éd. du Chaney, 1998.

Munn, Geoffrey C. Tiaras: A History of Splendour. Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club, 2001.

Orléans, Jacques d’, and Bruno Fouchereau. Les ténébreuses affaires du comte de Paris. Paris: A. Michel, 1999.

Orsouw, Michael van. “Sisi’s Assassin.” Blog – Swiss National Museum, n.d. Accessed November 4, 2025.

Paoli, Dominique. Fortunes et infortunes des princes d’Orléans: 1848-1918. Paris: Éd. Artena, 2006.

Paris, Isabelle Comtesse de. La Reine Marie-Amélie, Grand-Mère de l’Europe. Paris: Librairie Académique Perrin, 1998.

Paris, Isabelle Comtesse de. Tout m’est bonheur. Paris: Editions Robert Laffont, 1978.

Pineau, Elizabeth. “Count of Paris Urges Louvre Thieves to ‘Give Us Back Our Jewels.’” Reuters, October 31, 2025. Accessed November 4, 2025.

“Royal Jewels of the World Message Board: Re: Information from Louvre.” Accessed October 19, 2025.

Wairy, Louis Constant. Recollections of the Private Life of Napoleon. Translated by Walter Clark. Vol. 1. New York: H.M. Caldwell Co., 1895. (free at Google Books)

Wright, Constance. Daughter to Napoleon: A Biography of Hortense, Queen of Holland. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1961. (free at Archive.org)

Newspaper Articles

Belfast News-Letter. “French Duke’s Will.” September 20, 1926. British Newspaper Archive.

Cumberland Argus (Paramatta, New South Wales, Australia). “Gilded Coaches.” May 8, 1928. British Newspaper Archive.

Daily Express (London). “A Princess Tells Father – Exile’s over.” May 18, 1950. British Newspaper Archive.

Daily Express (London). “‘Queen of France’ Cry in Paris.” May 14, 1928. British Newspaper Archive.

The Davis News. “They Predict a Coup d’Etat in France.” March 5, 1931. Newspapers.com.

Evening Star (Washington, DC). “Isabelle Bride of Prince Henri.” April 8, 1931. Newspapers.com.

The Evening Sun (Baltimore, MD). “Duke of Guise, French Royalist Leader, Dies.” August 26, 1940. Newspapers.com.

The Gentlewoman. “Gentlewomen at Home.” November 4, 1899. British Newspaper Archive.

Guise, Isabella duchesse de. “Madame La Diplomate.” The Queen, October 23, 1940. British Newspaper Archive.

Leicester Catholic News. “Requiem for Royalty.” May 22, 1926. British Newspaper Archive.

Marshall, Alex. “Louvre Robbery: What Was Stolen.” The New York Times, October 19, 2025.

Menkes, Suzy. “The Other Royals: 90 Years a King-in-Waiting.” The New York Times, July 3, 1998.

The New York Times. “To Wed Comte de Paris.” December 8, 1930.

The New York Times. “Widowed Archduchess Is Dead in Budapest.” April 7, 1932.

Oregon Daily Journal. “Archduke, Mother Flee to France.” May 19, 1940. Newspapers.com.

Porter, Catherine. “Inside the Louvre Jewel Heist That Shocked the World.” The New York Times, October 30, 2025.

Porter, Catherine, and Aurelien Breeden. “Louvre Robbers Take ‘Priceless’ French Jewels.” The New York Times, October 19, 2025.

Reynolds’s Newspaper. “Duke’s Spitefull Will.” September 19, 1926. British Newspaper Archive.

Shetland News. “Notabilities of the Day.” November 21, 1896. British Newspaper Archive.

Star-Herald (Scottsbluff, Nebraska). “Pretender to Throne Dead; Burial Today.” August 27, 1940. Newspapers.com.

Tewkesbury Register. “Death Of The Duchess Of Orleans Residence Near Evesham Recalled.” April 9, 1932. British Newspaper Archive.

The Scotsman. “Duc de Guise, Pretender to French Throne, Reported Dead.” August 27, 1940. British Newspaper Archive.

The Standard-Freeholder (Cornwall, Ontario, Canada). “Monarchy Hovers Over Future.” January 28, 1939. British Newspaper Archive.

Whitney, Craig R. “Henri VI, 90, the Orleans Heir Apparent to the Throne of France.” The New York Times, June 21, 1999.

Worcester Journal. “Royal Wedding at Wood Norton.” November 23, 1907.

Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer. “Rot within the State of France.” May 4, 1961. British Newspaper Archive.

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