“It does you no good to be thinking about painting. It won’t help you find a suitable husband and get married.” Jeanne handed Lisette the knife again and returned to her pie crust.
Lisette watched her mother gracefully navigate around their kitchen. She effortlessly moved from the preparation table to the hearth, to the stove and then back again to the table. Lisette believed that her mother was one of the most beautiful women in Paris. Her papa said so often. With thick, raven black hair and ivory skin, she could still turn men’s heads.
“Move on to the carrots. They need to be peeled and cut up for the soup.” Jeanne gathered the sliced turnips from the table and dropped them into a medium-sized copper pot that had been warming on the stove. She moved to the open hearth and inspected the veal roasting on a spit. Her back was to Lisette.
“Mother, I have time. I’m not that old.” Lately, her mother’s favorite conversation topic was Lisette’s future marriage, even though there were no specific suitors.
“Plenty of girls marry at your age. If you wait much longer…” She spun toward Lisette. “You deserve your pick of suitors while there are plenty of eligible young men still available. Right now, you have many options. You are very becoming Lisette.” Jeanne’s eyes teared.
To Lisette, they looked like sparkling blue sapphire gemstones. Since she was very small, Lisette had wanted to trade her hazel colored eyes for the deep blue of her mother’s. They seemed to possess a magical power, drawing people to her, especially men.
I should deepen the blue of Venus’ eyes, Lisette thought. Questioning her previous decision, Lisette’s mind returned to her dilemma. Should I clothe Venus or leave her nude? Lisette tried to see the painting in her mind. Maybe if I think about it long enough the answer will come to me, she hoped. Lisette needed her papa’s advice to finish the painting.
Louis Vigée was downstairs painting in his atelier. Her papa’s studio doubled as his exhibition space where he would showcase and sometimes sell his latest pastels and oil paintings. Their apartment, located directly above the studio, was on the most gracious floor in the building. They were fortunate to have six rooms, including four fireplaces and a separate kitchen with a charcoal stove. Lisette knew that her papa didn’t earn as much money as some artists, but he did well enough for them to live like the families of merchants and lawyers.
“Mother, may I go downstairs?” Lisette asked.
“Absolutely not. Do you see servants that can help me? No. We aren’t that prosperous,” Jeanne said resigned. “Get started with the carrots.” She pulled out a dozen carrots from a large wicker basket. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, Jeanne placed them in front of Lisette on the long pinewood table.
Lisette knew that her mother yearned for a more lavish life. Louis had never achieved the status or wealth of some other painters, particularly those members of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture. Given her disappointment, she spoke of it rarely. Jeanne Vigée had long ago accepted her fate. She told Lisette they would never be wealthy, but would always have their needs met.
“But Mother, you know that I am a terrible cook. When was the last time I didn’t ruin a meal when I helped you in the kitchen? I am quite possibly the worst cook in France. I’d spoil chicken broth!”
“Lisette, you’re not a terrible cook. You simply need practice before you get married.”
When Lisette did not reply, her mother continued, “Lisette, your future husband will want you to possess culinary skills…not artistic skills.”
“May I go downstairs and tell Papa to come up?” Lisette asked her mother.
“No. Supper won’t be ready for several hours. Monsieur Vernet isn’t expected for at least an hour.” Then she added, “Besides, it is nearly nightfall and you know that your father has forbidden you from painting in the studio at night. Help me with the soup. Keep peeling.” Jeanne pointed to the carrots on the table as she stirred the sauce for the veal dish.
Lisette peeled the carrots while her mother added more ingredients to the copper pot.
Jeanne closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply. “Smell that soup. You did that. Your skills are already improving. You’ll be ready to cook for your husband in no time,” Jeanne said. “Come here and stir.”
Lisette took the ladle from her mother and leaned over the stove. The soup did smell good. Her stomach growled. If I could only get downstairs to the studio, she thought, shifting her mind from the minor discomfort of hunger to her art. When Lisette was busy painting, there were some days that she would forget to eat altogether.
“What’s that about Lisette and her husband?” said Lisette’s papa as he entered the kitchen.
Not Papa too, she thought.
“Lisette’s culinary skills have improved. She is almost ready to get married and cook for her husband,” Jeanne said proudly.
“Are you sure that is a good idea? We don’t want to starve the poor man.” Louis smiled at Lisette and then let out a low laugh.
Ignoring Louis’ sarcasm, Jeanne asked, “How are the paintings for Monsieur Aubert coming along?”
Louis did not answer her. Instead, he moved toward the stove. “That smells delightful.”
“Louis, you’ve been working day and night on those paintings. Aren’t they finished yet?”
Louis faced Jeanne. “Almost,” he said quickly and then looked toward the stove again.
“I should hope so. Hasn’t Monsieur Aubert said he will pay 200 livres per painting? It’s certainly not what Monsieur Greuze or Vernet can command, but it is money we need,” Jeanne said. She continued talking as she fussed about the kitchen. “I heard that the King just paid 16,700 livres for a painting. 16,700 livres! Can you imagine? It is more than you earn in an entire year, Louis!” Jeanne said. She paused and then added, “It’s more than most Parisians make in an entire year.”
At a young age, Lisette had learned that the large-scale allegorical and historical paintings sold for many thousands of livres and were usually purchased by royals or other illustrious families to decorate their grand homes and palaces. The high prices were mandated by the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture and the King’s Minister of Buildings. If I could gain a reputation as a painter of history and allegory…she thought. Lisette fantasized of the possibilities that would follow from such a reputation.
“Papa, weren’t you just saying that Monsieur Greuze sold his painting, The Village Bride, to a Monsieur de Marigny? How much was the final amount?” Lisette remembered her papa talking about his friend’s recent good fortune.
“It was for 3,000 livres,” Louis muttered, barely audible. “But it was highly unexpected for a genre painting,” Louis said a little louder.
“Genre painting or not, 3,000 livres…that money would improve our position, would it not?” Jeanne asked Louis.
He didn’t respond to her, focusing instead on the simmering soup. “What is in that soup? It smells better than usual.” As her papa bent over to peek in the large copper pot, he started to cough. He immediately covered his mouth. It took him several moments to compose himself.
“Louis, are you well? That is the fifth time this week you’ve had a fit. Should I send for the doctor?”
Lisette had noticed his coughing too. Since beginning several months ago, it seemed to worsen with each incident.
“I think that soup will cure whatever ails me.”
“Are you sure, Papa? I helped with it.” Lisette smiled at her papa.
“Enough of that kind of talk. Monsieur Vernet will be here in an hour,” Jeanne said. “Lisette, it is time to finish the veal dish.”
“Yes, Mother.” As Lisette helped her mother take the heavy kettle out of the hearth, she wondered if her papa would want to go back downstairs after supper. Then she thought, Maybe Mother and Papa will be distracted with Monsieur Vernet and I can sneak out during the meal.
“Lisette, put the soup spoons on next,” Jeanne reminded her. Lisette helped her mother place the dishes, glasses and cutlery on the dini
ng table. Monsieur Vernet had arrived early forcing Jeanne to accelerate the preparations.
“Set them to the right of the knives,” Jeanne said, pointing to the correct placement on the large table.
Lisette nodded absently as she focused on her papa’s conversation with Monsieur Vernet in the next room. Did Papa just mention the King? she wondered.
“Please pay attention, Lisette. After you finish with the soup spoons, I need you to set out the mustard pots and sauceboats,” her mother said. “Are you listening to me?”
Lisette moved the spoons to their rightful places on the table and then positioned herself at the edge of the dining room to better hear Monsieur Vernet and her papa.
“Lisette…the mustard pots and sauceboats,” Jeanne said as she found the mustard pots in the tall corner cabinet that stored their serving pieces.
She took the pots from her mother and placed them on the table as Jeanne returned to the cabinet and removed their only two pieces of Sèvres porcelain. The slender, aqua-blue vases sat atop marble bases. They had decorative gilt handles attached to slightly swollen middles covered with pastel-colored flowers. Lisette watched her mother gaze adoringly at the vases as she carefully positioned them on either end of the long rectangular table.
“There. The table is set. As soon as we carry in the prepared dishes for the first service, we will eat,” Jeanne said.
“May we go in and talk to Monsieur Vernet and Papa now?” Lisette asked.
“Yes, but only for a few minutes. The soup will need tending soon and the other dishes are almost ready to be served.” Jeanne then walked into the drawing room to where Monsieur Vernet and Lisette’s papa were sitting discussing business.
Lisette followed her mother. They stood at the edge of the room.
“But will it please the King?” Louis Vigée asked his guest.
“Most certainly. He has requested a gallant theme and nothing is more gallant than Saint Denis. The venerated saint is one of the greatest patrons of Paris and France,” Monsieur Vernet said to Louis.
“You don’t think it is overdone? Both Vien and Van Loo have executed the same theme.”
“And yours shall be superior, old friend.” Monsieur Vernet exuded confidence.
Louis shook his head enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. I quite agree.”
“I am anxious to see the finished paintings,” Vernet said.
“I’m afraid I have much more work ahead of me before they are finished,” Louis said.
“That is shrewd. You certainly don’t want to rush the King’s paintings,” Vernet replied.
Spellbound, Lisette listened to Monsieur Vernet dispense artistic advice to her papa. Vernet was a member of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture and had been commissioned by the King many times to create seascape series. Just months ago, her papa had received his very first commission from King Louis XV. The King had requested two paintings with a gallant theme for the upcoming Guild exhibition. It was the most important commission of Louis Vigée’s career. Lisette knew that her papa didn’t want to disappoint the King.
“Jeanne, Lisette, come sit with Monsieur Vernet before we begin our meal,” Louis said as he waved, indicating for them to move deeper into the drawing room.
Jeanne sat down on a settee directly across from the two armchairs where Louis and Vernet were seated. Lisette took a seat next to her mother on the long upholstered sofa.
“How lovely to see you, Jeanne,” Vernet said to Lisette’s mother as he bowed his head to her. Saying nothing to Lisette, Vernet kept his gaze on Louis and Jeanne. Lisette had met Monsieur Vernet several years ago and she doubted that he remembered her.
“Claude-Joseph, it is good to see you out. You are looking well. How is Madame Vernet? It is a shame she couldn’t make it this evening. Please give her our regards,” Jeanne said.
“Virginia is slowly returning to our world. She saw nothing but blackness after Emilie passed,” Vernet said.
Lisette saw his face darken at the mention of Emilie’s name. Lisette had never met the Vernets’ only daughter, but she remembered her parents talking about her death a few months ago. Emilie had been the same age as Lisette.
“It was a particularly bad bout of smallpox. Many souls were claimed in Paris. Our own Etienne was afflicted,” Louis said gravely.
“But he recovered, no?” Vernet asked.
“Yes. God chose to spare him. We are very fortunate,” Jeanne said quietly.
They all nodded in silence.
Vernet, who had been avoiding Lisette, looked at her for the first time since she entered the room. “Lisette, look at how you’ve grown.” Vernet gave a slight nod of his head.
Lisette returned the nod.
He continued, “You have blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I am sure that the suitors are fighting each other to court you.”
Lisette noticed a deep sadness in his eyes.
Jeanne quickly spoke up, “Monsieur Vernet, tell us about Italy. When did you return?”
Lisette watched Monsieur Vernet’s demeanor change before he uttered a word. He stood up excitedly. Her mother had been right to change the subject. Like most important artists that Lisette had met at her papa’s suppers, Vernet couldn’t resist the invitation to talk at length about himself and his recent travels.
“The Académie in Rome is thriving. In fact, there is a young Academician there that everyone is talking about. I think we are going to see important works from him in the future,” Vernet said as he paced.
“And what is this promising young man’s name?” Louis asked.
Vernet stopped pacing. He faced the wall of their drawing room that displayed several paintings.
“Jacques-Louis David,” Vernet said distractedly.
Lisette watched him move closer to a portrait she had painted of her younger brother, Etienne. Like most bourgeois boys his age, Etienne was away at school. He occasionally returned home, but spent most days of the month at the Collège des Quatre-Nations. Lisette’s papa was enormously proud of Etienne. As one of the colleges of the University of Paris, the Collège des Quatre-Nations was attended by the most prosperous sons of Parisian merchant and bourgeois families.
“His name isn’t familiar to me. Was he a member of the Guild?” Louis asked.
“No, he was not. He went straight to the Académie,” Vernet said as he examined Lisette’s painting.
Her mother grimaced as Vernet said the word Académie.
Monsieur Vernet and Louis had become friends while Vernet was still a Guild member. They had remained friends even after Vernet had been elected to the Académie and had left the Guild. Her pride wounded, Jeanne had wanted to cut their ties to Vernet, but Louis had convinced her of her shortsightedness. Being a prudent man, Louis maintained their friendship. Later, Jeanne had admitted the importance of the relationship. Had it not been for Vernet’s status at the Académie, Louis would have never received the commission from the King. Her parents had often discussed how the money from the King’s paintings would pay several years’ tuition for Etienne.
“Is this your son, Louis?” Vernet asked pointing to Lisette’s portrait.
“Yes, it is Etienne,” Louis replied.
“It is a wonderfully executed portrait. I didn’t know that you had begun painting portraits, Louis.”
“It wasn’t done by my hand,” Louis said.
“It is my portrait,” Lisette said proudly.
Vernet immediately turned toward Lisette. “Extraordinary. I had no idea Lisette could. Where does she study?”
“Here with me,” Louis said in a low voice.
Lisette thought she heard a tinge of guilt in his tone. Earlier that day, he had denied her request to study with a master painter, Gabriel Briard. Master Briard was one of the few Académie members who accepted female students.
“Astounding. She has come this far with only your tutelage.” Vernet then looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you are not a good teacher, my
friend.”
“No offense taken.” Louis started to cough, but managed to control it quickly.
“I only meant that she has gone this far without proper training at the Académie. Have you considered finding her further instruction?” Vernet asked.
“It is time for supper, gentlemen.” Jeanne stood and tried to guide everyone into the dining room.
“Doesn’t Monsieur Briard accept female pupils at his studio at the Louvre?” Vernet asked.
“Yes, he does!” Lisette said excitedly. She hoped that Monsieur Vernet might convince her papa to allow lessons with Briard.
“Please, gentlemen, if you will make your way into the dining room. I will bring out the food,” Jeanne repeated herself.
Louis stood, but Vernet remained seated as if he wanted to continue the conversation about Lisette.
“Louis, she has incredible potential. She could follow in the steps of Madame Vallayer-Coster who was admitted to the Académie two years ago.”
“Monsieur Vernet, marriage is in Lisette’s future, not the Académie Royale,” Jeanne said quickly.
Ignoring Jeanne, Vernet said to Louis, “She could easily be accepted into the Guild first. You could help with that, Louis.” Vernet stood as he spoke.
“Perhaps. But like Jeanne said, Lisette will be married soon. Besides, the Guild is about to see increased fees for its members. Hardly worth a short-term membership,” Louis said as he took Vernet’s arm and escorted him into the dining room. Louis was beset by another coughing fit as he walked. This time, it took him longer to recover.
“The government is raising the fees of Guild members?” Vernet asked.
Lisette lingered in the drawing room as they withdrew. Vernet quickly gave up discussing Lisette. He seemed more interested in the increased fees as both of her parents began raging against them. Lisette heard her papa coughing in between sentences.
With her parents and Monsieur Vernet engrossed in a discussion of the proposed Guild fees, Lisette took the opportunity to leave the apartment.
She picked up a candelabra sitting on a small stand next to the settee where she and her mother had been sitting. It was already burning one candle, so she would at least have some light. Lisette quietly made her way to the front door, left their apartment and went downstairs to her papa’s studio.
Becoming Lisette: A Novel (The Queen's Painter an Historical Romance Book 1) Page 2