Becoming Lisette: A Novel (The Queen's Painter an Historical Romance Book 1)
Page 16
“I saw you leave the house and thought you might need some help today. Mademoiselle Tothier told me where you were headed.”
Lisette smiled at him. Although she was dubious about his ability to navigate through so many people, she was grateful for the assistance.
“Thank you, Henri,” Lisette said.
Henri gathered her remaining art supplies. Once he had collected everything, he turned to Lisette and said, “Follow me, Mademoiselle Lisette.” Henri pushed his way through the crowd, parting the people in front of them like he was clearing tall jungle weeds with a machete.
Lisette watched in amazement as he easily maneuvered through the throng. She no longer doubted his ability to help her.
He looked back at her and smiled. “We’ll be there in no time.”
“Why don’t we travel down that passageway over there?” Lisette asked as she pointed toward the alley where she had been headed before she fell.
“No. It doesn’t lead anywhere. Unfortunately we must force our way through this crowd. The entrance to the Cour Carrée is on the other side of this street,” Henri said confidently.
Henri led the way, creating a path for them through the people. They hadn’t made much progress when the fanfare began.
Lisette heard cannons fired at the Invalides, the Bastille and the Hôtel de Ville announcing the arrival of the royal couple, just as her mother had described to her.
“The royal couple has entered the city gate!” Lisette heard a woman exclaim.
“They will pass by here shortly!” she heard another woman say.
Lisette listened to the blaring trumpets at the head of the royal procession. Even though the trumpets grew louder as the carriages approached, they were quickly drowned out by the cheering and singing of the crowds. Although not everyone was engrossed in the merriment. Many pushed and elbowed each other. Lisette witnessed several fights erupt over precious street space that offered unobstructed views of the parade. The onlookers who appeared satisfied with their viewpoint craned their necks to see the Dauphin and Dauphine.
Lisette then heard the clappity-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones and the creaking of the wheels. The royal carriages, Lisette thought. They are almost here. Lisette found herself swept up in the excitement. The collective energy of the crowd was contagious. She felt her heart beat faster. She had never seen the Dauphine or Dauphin.
Lisette motioned for Henri to stop. Like everyone else on the street, Lisette and Henri waited for the carriages to pass. I will never be able to see the carriages through all of these people, she thought.
Then, through a tiny space in between heads in the crowd, Lisette saw it. The carriage that held the Dauphine and Dauphin moved so slowly that for several moments she had a clear view of Marie-Antoinette. Lisette saw a young woman exquisitely dressed in the finest silks with an elaborate coiffure complete with embedded jewels and feathers. A lovely shade of soft yellow, her hair was much paler than Lisette had imagined. Marie-Antoinette waved at the onlookers with her bejeweled, white gloved hand. She is breathtaking, Lisette thought. She was unable to look away.
No sooner had the carriage passed, when Lisette remembered her lesson. She turned to Henri who held her satchel. He pointed in the direction of the Louvre. It was well within eyesight, just a few hundred paces away. Satisfied, the crowd simmered down. The onlookers stopped pushing and fighting each other. For the most part, everyone stood still. Lisette and Henri took advantage of the collective calm and easily maneuvered in between the people.
“Thank you, Henri, but I can make it from here on my own,” Lisette told him.
“I can escort you to the door.”
Lisette shook her head no. “Thank you again for your help.” She reached out for her satchel and Henri handed it to her.
“Your secret is safe with me, Mademoiselle Lisette. Monsieur Le Sèvre won’t find out.” Henri bowed slightly to her and then started off in the direction of the house.
Lisette quickly moved toward the Louvre. She had to prevent her legs from skipping like a school girl’s. I wonder if Briard will have me copy a statue or a painting first, she wondered.
Lisette stood in front of the doors to the Louvre, waiting a few moments before going inside. It felt strange to enter the Louvre without her papa. The noises from the massive crowds behind her in the Cour Carrée disappeared as she thought about him. She remembered his words, You will be a painter, my child!
She knew it was time to go inside. Before Lisette could take two steps toward the door, she was nearly knocked over by several young men running into the building. Shouting and laughing, they swept past Lisette and swung open the large door in front of her. One of the young men whacked her with his satchel as he ran past. The force was so strong Lisette lost her grip on her own satchel and it dropped to the ground.
Lisette picked up her bag and took a moment to compose herself. Just as she was ready to go inside, another group of boys ran past her and into the building again. This time she was prepared and stepped aside to let them pass. They didn’t seem to notice her at all. This must be the door that the students use, she thought.
But then Lisette had another thought, What am I doing here with all of these boys? She stood watching the heavy door slowly close after the boys had gone inside.
Then a boy by himself, obviously a straggler, came up next to her.
“Are you going in? Could you open the door?” The boy was carrying a satchel like hers in one hand and in the other he held a folded easel. Lisette looked at him. She wasn’t sure he was talking to her. “Well? Aren’t you going inside? To Master Briard’s atelier?” the boy asked her.
She looked at him again, puzzled. How did he know? she wondered.
“Don’t look so confused. You are a girl and you are holding a satchel meant for carrying art supplies and you are standing in front of the entrance for students. You must be a pupil of Master Briard. He is the only one that teaches girls. Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?”
Lisette opened the door for him.
“Thank you. Monsieur Briard’s atelier is in the southwest pavilion, down the fourth corridor on the left, after the Salon Carré,” the boy said and ran off.
Lisette went inside. She immediately turned south and west toward the correct pavilion. Then she walked down the hall looking for the fourth corridor the boy had mentioned. There were so many rooms and hallways that led away from the hall, it was difficult to keep track of how many she had already passed. Lisette stopped walking and looked right, left and then right again. As she looked to her right for the second time, she noticed a grand room just a few feet away. The Salon Carré, she thought.
She instantly recognized the room. Lisette had been there many times before with her papa. The last time she had stood in this room, she had met Amante. She thought about that day. Her papa had fallen ill with a bad coughing spell. It was just weeks before he would be dead.
Lisette entered the room. The academicians were preparing for the upcoming Salon de Paris. There were paintings hung on every available space on each wall. Some were hung so high Lisette could barely see them. She had to squint to see even the largest figures in those paintings. Lisette focused instead on the ones that were lower on the wall.
One in particular caught her attention, a painting by Chardin. It depicted a scullery maid drawing water from a copper cistern. She recognized Chardin’s hand because she had seen his work in previous years’ Salons at the Louvre. Chardin’s paintings had grown immensely popular with the Parisian crowds. His genre paintings conveyed a sentimentalism and simplicity about everyday life to which Salon viewers had responded favorably.
Because her papa had wanted Lisette to see what current artists were creating, he had insisted Lisette accompany him. Papa, she thought. She missed him tremendously. Lisette reached into her pocket bag and pulled out her papa’s watch. As she looked at it, she expected herself to cry, but instead she felt a warm sensation come over h
er body. To Lisette, it was as if he was standing next to her. She could hear her papa explaining the paintings and answering all of her questions. Hearing his voice inside her head imparted a calmness.
She returned the watch to her pocket and stood tall. I belong here, she thought. Even with all of the boys.
Lisette scanned the wall again and noticed another familiar artist, Vernet. His large canvas was hung high, near the ceiling.
As she stood on her tip-toes to get a better view of Vernet’s painting, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Lisette let out a shriek. She turned around and saw a young woman, who appeared the same age, standing right behind her.
“Chardin has successfully captured the simple nature of a scullery maid’s life, hasn’t he?” the young woman asked with an air of familiarity, as if they had been friends for years.
“Yes, he has −” Lisette stopped herself from completing her thought. “Why did you tap me?” Lisette asked.
“Oh, I apologize. I thought if I touched you first, you would be less alarmed when I spoke. You seemed so engrossed in the painting.”
“I must be −” Lisette had been distracted by the paintings and by the memories of attending the art exhibitions with her papa, but she needed to get to her lesson.
The girl spoke over Lisette. “My mother says I am like a savage from the wilderness of the New World. I’m much too quiet when I approach someone who is unsuspecting.”
“I must be going…” Once again, Lisette tried to leave, but the girl continued to talk.
“She has told me that I better not sneak up on my betrothed and especially not after he is my husband. I am marrying Monsieur Jacques Coupé next spring. He is a clerk in a notary’s office and hopes to one day succeed the notary.” The girl stood taller as she said the word marrying.
“I really must leave. Good day,” Lisette finally managed to say. She didn’t have time to chat. She couldn’t be late for her first lesson.
Lisette left the grand room. She counted four corridors and then turned left, not sure if it led to Briard’s or not. Lisette quickened her pace. Good. I’ve left that girl behind, Lisette thought.
“You are going the wrong way. You should be headed down that hallway back there,” the girl said confidently. She pointed in back of them to a hall on the other side of the Salon Carré. The girl had caught up to Lisette and was now beside her.
“How do you know where I am going?” Lisette stopped walking and turned to face this irritating girl. “Who are you? Do you know who I am?”
“My name is Rosalie Bocquet. And I believe you are Mademoiselle Élisabeth Vigée, daughter of the Guild painter Louis Vigée. Everyone calls you Lisette. You are not yet married or betrothed.”
How did the girl know who she was? How did she know so much about her? Lisette didn’t know how to respond.
“We are both here to learn from Master Briard.”
“You are too?” Lisette asked.
“Yes, I began my lessons a few weeks ago. He told me at our last lesson that you would be joining us.”
“You mean we don’t each have private lessons?”
“No. But I don’t mind in the least. Now there will be three of us: you, Adélaïde and me. I enjoy talking while we work, but Master Briard does not allow it when he is present. Luckily, Master Briard often leaves the studio for minutes at a time and we are free to chat then. Mother says that I have a great ability to talk to anyone and everyone.”
Lisette felt her heart sink. She didn’t want to share the precious time she would have with her new master instructor with anyone…and from what she had seen of Rosalie so far, especially not her. Like Briard, Lisette wasn’t fond of talking while she painted, unless it was required during a portrait sitting. When she worked on her own, she preferred quiet. How would Lisette concentrate on her work with Rosalie’s incessant chatter?
Until then, Lisette and Rosalie had been alone in the hall. Out of nowhere, a small band of boys approached them. Lisette recognized two of the boys. They had run past her at the entrance to the Louvre.
“Oh, Nicolas, look what we have here. A couple of pretty girls.” The boy who spoke was at least a head taller than the rest and seemed to Lisette to be their leader. “How about a kiss?” The boy’s face nearly touched Rosalie’s as he puckered his lips.
Lisette immediately moved in between Rosalie and the boy. “Leave her alone. Now let us pass,” Lisette ordered him. She found her most serious voice.
The boy appeared to be younger than Lisette, but he was much taller and stronger. She knew that she could not win a physical confrontation, but she hoped that she could convince him to go away.
The boy turned to his friends. “Did you hear that? This one wants me to let them pass.” He let out a low, sinister laugh. “What is that smell?” He came up close to Lisette and sniffed her. “You have an awful stench! You smell like one of us,” he said with contempt.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way I smell. Now let us pass,” Lisette repeated herself.
The boy then sniffed Rosalie. “You should smell more like her. She smells the way a girl should smell. Ahh…lavender perfume.”
Lisette took advantage of the boy’s distraction with the lavender perfume and grabbed Rosalie’s hand, leading her away from the group of bullies.
One of the other boys yelled after them, “We’ll finish this later!”
Lisette darted toward the hall that Rosalie had pointed to just before they were interrupted. The boys must have decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble, because instead of following Lisette and Rosalie, they headed in the opposite direction.
Rosalie looked back, let out a sigh and stopped. She dropped Lisette’s hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there with me.” She was out of breath and seemed to be having a difficult time calming herself.
“I don’t think it is safe for a girl to be alone in these halls,” Lisette said.
Rosalie jerked her head up and down in quick movements. “Yes…yes…absolutely.” She struggled to catch her breath. “Lisette, why did they say you smell awful?” Rosalie asked her. She came up to Lisette and inhaled deeply. “Oh…turpentine. You smell of turpentine.”
“I was using it earlier this morning. Why does it matter?” Lisette didn’t expect an answer. She didn’t care about smelling like turpentine. She was more concerned about the boys. Lisette couldn’t escape the feeling that the boys wanted to hurt them and to take away their honor, especially if either of them had been alone. “Rosalie, why don’t we meet somewhere in between our houses and walk here together?”
“Yes, I would very much like that,” Rosalie replied.
“Are you too shaken to work today?” Lisette asked her. Before Rosalie could answer, Lisette saw a man with red and gray hair that was streaked with white paint poke his head out of a nearby door.
“There you two are. I see Rosalie found you, Lisette,” he said.
This is Master Briard? Lisette wondered. He looked more like a street performer than a master painter.
Briard had a concerned look on his face. “I thought maybe the two of you were swept up in all this Joyous Entry fanfare and commotion.”
“Master Briard.” Lisette politely curtsied to introduce herself.
“Come inside. We have a lot of work to do today.”
Lisette looked Briard directly in the eye as she went toward the door. “Master Briard, I am ready to work diligently for you.”
“So I have heard. Capitaine de Chaumont speaks very highly of you. I don’t usually accept pupils based solely on the recommendation of a patron. However, I hold the capitiane in the highest regard. I trust his judgment.” Briard was serious, but kind at the same time.
He turned to Rosalie. “Come in and get settled. Adélaïde is already here.”
Then he turned back to Lisette, “We must get started. We are going to begin by copying this statue by Giambologna, The Seduction of the Sabine Women.”
Briard came over to the door. “You look worried, Lisette. Don’t be. Not only are you allowed to copy these nude figures, but I fully expect you to make strides in your ability to accurately capture the musculature and bone structure. Rosalie will show you where to store your belongings.”
Rosalie went in first and Lisette followed her. She watched Rosalie carefully remove her cap and gently place her lunch basket on the floor next to the window. Then Lisette saw another young woman standing at an easel.
“Lisette, this is Adélaïde de La Valette,” Briard said.
Adélaïde turned and regarded Lisette. She smiled briefly. Lisette returned the smile.
Then Rosalie whispered to Lisette, “She is from the La Valette family. You must curtsy to her.”
Lisette did as Rosalie said.
The girl smiled again, this time at both of them, but said nothing.
“Good. Introductions are over. Let’s begin, girls. Get to your easels and start copying,” Briard said, pointing to the statue in the middle of the room.
Once again, Lisette gaped in amazement at the statue. It was magnificent. She had never copied full nude figures from life-size sculptures. She had only reproduced the human figure from paintings and drawings. While this wasn’t a live nude to draw from, it was better than a two-dimensional painting. It would have to suffice, because female students were not permitted to learn from live nudes, neither male nor female models.
Lisette allowed her excitement to take over and she ran to her easel. She dropped her satchel on the floor and immediately picked up the charcoal sitting on the easel’s ledge. Now which figure should I sketch first…
Chapter Twenty-One
October 27, 1773
This carriage looks taken too, Lisette thought. She watched in frustration as another carriage passed without stopping for her. That had been the fifth one in a row. Lisette had been standing on the Rue Saint-Honoré, just down from her house, for nearly a quarter of an hour. She was trying to hail a fiacre. At this time of night, there were many of the four-wheeled carriages out on the streets. It was the hour before theater performances began. It seemed to Lisette as if all of Paris was already in a carriage.