Her bold spirit and elastic temperament were not weakened or cast down by this destruction of her hopes. She took advantage of the forced seclusion to resume her occupations. In prison she modeled several small groups; one of them, composed of twelve figures, representing the duel of the Sire de Jarnee and the Count de la Chataignevaie in the presence of Henry II. and his court. She also designed a monument for Louis de Bonnechose, who had lately perished in an affray with some soldiers sent to arrest him. The background of this composition is architectural, in the Gothic style, adorned with the blazoned shields, achievements, and banners which belong peculiarly to the Vendean party. On the summit of the edifice is an angel, whose face is veiled, supporting the armorial shield of the deceased; in the foreground the Archangel Michael, terrible and victorious, has just killed the dragon. This dragon has a head like a cock—a type of the French republic. Michael bears in his right hand the avenging sword, and in his left holds a pair of crystal scales; in one of these are figures of judges, advocates, and magistrates; in the other, which weighs down these, is a single drop of blood, with this inscription:
“Quam gravis est sanguis justi inultus.”
In this sketch, as, indeed, in all Felicie’s works, the symbolical beauty inspires the whole; the ideal gives spirit to the material form, while the form receives its noblest distinction as the fitting vehicle of the idea.
After seven months’ imprisonment, Mademoiselle de Fauveau was set at liberty, and returned to Paris and her studio. Very soon afterward, the appearance of the Duchesse de Berri in Vendée set on fire all Royalist imaginations. Madame de la Roche Jacquelein and our fair artist again left Paris, and worked day and night for the cause so dear to their hearts, to reap again disappointment, failure, and misfortune. This episode in Felicie’s life may show how strong was the political bias which gave tone and character to both her private and artistic life. “My opinions are dearer to me than my art,” she said, and her actions proved this. She was one of the forlorn hope that stood up in the breach to save a falling dynasty; and with its ruins were ingulfed her own fortune, her prospects, and such part of her success as depended on the public recognition and acceptance of art in her own country.
After the failure of this second attempt of the Legitimists, Mademoiselle de Fauveau was among the persons exiled. She first took refuge in Switzerland; then returned to Paris, in the very teeth of the authorities, broke up her studio and establishment there, and went to Florence, where she fixed her permanent abode with her mother and brother.
Considerable expense and outlay are necessary to carry on the art of sculpture, and a removal from a studio in which were accumulated sketches, models, and marbles—most of them not portable—was almost total ruin. The forced sale of furniture; the transfer, at a heavy discount, of funds which had to be reinvested, added serious items to the amount of loss. From the fragments thus thrown aside fortunes were made. At the very time when the little family was enduring bitter privation in Florence, a man realized an almost fabulous sum by selling walking-sticks manufactured from designs made by Mademoiselle de Fauveau in those happy Paris evenings before mentioned.
The expense attendant on establishing a new studio in Florence had to be met by the labor of many years. Madame de Fauveau, at this period, was the guardian angel of the family, and thought no sacrifice too great for the encouragement of her daughter’s genius, and the advancement of her views. Her own poetical and imaginative mind aroused and fostered the ideas of the sculptress, while her unflinching resignation and humble faith soothed and solaced her heart.
With unparalleled nobleness, in spite of extreme poverty, the family refused to receive a sous from the princes or the party they had so served. No fleck of the world’s dust can be thrown on that spotless fidelity. It was at this period, when each day’s labor scarcely sufficed to provide for daily necessities, that Mademoiselle de Fauveau wrote to one of her friends, “We artists are like the Hebrews of old; manna is sent to us, but on condition we save none for the morrow.”
Brighter days dawned. Labor is not only its own reward, in the happiness it confers, but those who sow unweariedly and judiciously shall reap fairly. Our sculptress achieved a modest independence. It was probably at this time of her life that her friend the Baroness de Krafft sketched her character, dwelling on the contrasts presented by her history, in which her mind was developed, and the bent of her nature determined. “Fire, air, and water,” she says, “are in that organization;” and it is true that ardor, purity, and impulse are the characteristics of her genius. On the one hand we see the lady of the Faubourg St. Germaine, with all the habits, associations, and prejudices which belong to her order; on the other, the artist, earning her daily bread, and obliged to face in their reality the sternest necessities and most imperative obligations; the single woman treading victoriously the narrow and thorny path which all women tread who seek to achieve independence by their own exertions; and the genius which, to attain breadth and vigor, must freely sweep out of its path limitations and obstacles. These contrasts appear in her person and manner. Her glance, usually soft, can kindle and grow stern. Madame de Krafft notices that the movements of her arms are somewhat abrupt and angular, but her hands “are white, soft, and fine, royal as the hands of Cæsar, or of Leonardo da Vinci.”
Mademoiselle de Fauveau is described by a visitor as being fair, with low and broad forehead; soft, brown, penetrating eyes, aquiline nose, and mouth finely chiseled, well closed, and slightly sarcastic. Of the medium height, her figure is flexible and well formed. Her ordinary studio dress is velvet, of that “feuille morte” color Madame Cottin has made famous; with a jacket of the same fastened by a small leathern belt, a foulard round the neck, and a velvet cap. Her hair is blonde, cut square on the forehead and short on the neck, and left rather longer at the sides, in the Vandyke manner. The face, and figure, and presence, give the impress of a firm but not aggressive nature, revealing the energy of resistance, not of defiance. Opinions strongly held and enunciated, defended to the death, if necessary, give such an aspect. Combined with this peculiarity is a look of thoughtful melancholy, such as Retzch has represented in his sketches of Faust. In fact, the head, in a statuette of herself, might serve as an ideal of the world-famous student. There are two admirable likenesses of her: one by Ary Scheffer and one by Giraud.