Photo editing programs have long been a part of our lives, so you can rarely see a photo that hasn’t been retouched. However, it’s wrong to think that Photoshop belongs only to the modern world. People have been improving the looks of their portraits for centuries. That means there were specialists in photo retouching that date all the way back to the nineteenth century. Even painters have worked hard to make models look more beautiful than they really were.
At Bright Side, we searched the archives and found photos of royalty from the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century, and we compared them to their portrait paintings. At the end of the article, we’ll show you what Vincent van Gogh really looked like.
Isabella II of Spain (1830 — 1904)
Mary of Teck, the spouse of George V (1867 — 1953)
Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the mother of Queen Elizabeth II (1900 — 2002)
Princess Helena of the United Kingdom (1846 — 1923)
Victoria, Princess Royal, German Empress (1840 — 1901)
Charlotte of Belgium (1840 — 1927)
Sophie of Württemberg, Queen of the Netherlands (1818 — 1877)
Queen Victoria (1819 — 1901)
Maria Christina of Austria, Queen-consort of Spain (1858 — 1929)
Maria Luisa of Bourbon-Parma, Princess-consort of Bulgaria (1870 — 1899)
Grand Duchess Elena Vladimirovna of Russia (1882 — 1957)
Princess Beatrice of the United Kingdom, Queen Victoria’s fifth daughter (1857 — 1944)
Alexandra Feodorovna, the spouse of Nicholas II of Russia (1872 — 1918)
Princess Alice of Battenberg, the mother-in-law of Queen Elizabeth II (1885 — 1969)
Alexandra of Denmark, the spouse of Edward VII (1844 — 1925)
onus: Vincent van Gogh (1853 — 1890)
What do you think about Photoshop? Do you use it often? Tell us in the comments below.
I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go
Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.
Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.
“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”
She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.
“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”
I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.
Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.
“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”
Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.
Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.
“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”
And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.
Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.
“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”
However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.
“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.
“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”
Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.
“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.
“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork
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