Yippee! I did it! I got to see his Eminence up close and personal! (I can't say anything to anybody here, but in his cardinal's scarlet robes, with his pointy beard and moustache he makes me think of a
Victorian pantomime demon king !) And I am so glad that all the hard work I put into studying the techniques of old master painters had proved rewarding, too. I had better try and contain my excitement, and tell the story carefully.
During my brief tour of the Palais Richelieu with Signor Paolo Vasari, and Signor Luca Buonfranca (who plays the lute and the viol, but has a knack for really putting a skip into dances! and a magnificent twirly moustache which he is rather proud of; it sets him apart from the hundreds of little goatee beards that the men seem to fancy so.) we bumped into (literally), Madamoiselle Duchesne, daughter of Nicolas Duchesne who has been discussing the cardinal's requirements for a state portrait that might be copied for some of the noble families.
Although I was almost certain we were the party in the wrong, hurrying in a narrow corridor, Lucille Duchesne apologized very courteously for obstructing our passage so thoughtlessly and after the terse explanation of our haste, asked if I would be interested in visiting her father's lodgings to look at some of her own drawings? Naturally, I was in no hurry to leave with another opportunity to explore offered so generously, and so a couple of days later, she met me, as arranged, on the steps of
Saint Eustache after mass. The church is still a busy building site, and worshippers leave under a canvas canopy to protect them from odds and ends that might fall from the scaffolding.
We stopped for a while to collect a light lunch at
Boulangier Poulain before scuttling through the narrow little streets. If there is one thing that seems never to have changed, it is the smell of those Parisien streets!
Duchesne Pere was already hard at work when we arrived and Lucille popped her head into his studio just long enough to let her father know that she was home before running up the stairs to fetch her drawings. When she returned she had a huge portfolio and a wooden board tucked under her arm. (The portrait is Monsieur Poussin, who was a junior member of the project team, but this was painted when he was older).
I was a little concerned in case she intended to make a drawing of me! (Always the same rule; take nothing but the clothes you stand up in, leave nothing more substantial than footprints and memories) but my concern was groundless. She showed me later that the board was a tiny oil painting of her own, beautifully detailed, with jewel-like colors, a "
noli me tangere" with a very dishy athletic Christ drawing back from a rather disappointed-looking Mary Magdalen. I'm sure I have never seen it in my own time, and I very much hope it still survives somewhere, enjoyed perhaps by a family who appreciate its subtleties.
Most of her portfolio consisted of figure studies (draped, since even at this time, for propriety's sake, an artist would hang a gauze veil between themself and the nude) in red or brown chalk, some smaller landscapes, mostly, so she told me, painted not far from the city itself, one or two from her home town.
"Do you know how to mix colors?" she asks me. "This week, Monsieur Charille was to assist Papa, but he was the victim of an attack by footpads a few days ago. He is able to assist in the studio still, but he has such a great ugly bandage about his head! I will be assisting, but if you have
the science of mixing pigments, perhaps Papa would let you assist him? and I could spend some time with Monsieur Champaigne."
She begins instructing me in the essentials:
"two parts oil of poppies with one part oil of linseed mixed, and a little clarified beeswax. Use the cooled wax like this, make it a paste, almost runny and add powder little by little. He keeps two dippers at hand, always keep the one not in use clean and filled with spirit, and be ready at a moment to take the dipper for cleaning. He keeps his brushes in three pots: large flats, large rounds, and squirrel pencils."
In the end, Lucille agrees to prepare a set of small vials with the most commonly used pigments, and I will assist by setting out Monsieur Duchesne's palette, making up additional paints as and when needed.
It is a bright, chill February morning a little after 8am when we arrive at the Palais Richelieu, and I direct as Monsieur Duchesne's portable easel, stretched canvas, and cases of paints and oils are unloaded from the carriage. While we are exactly on time as directed, we have to wait several minutes before his Eminence appears and settles himself patiently under the direction of the Master Painter. And all the while the sitting is in progress he discusses current affairs with the Master. It isn't long before one of his cats, Pyramus, settles contentedly in his lap.
Do you recall the news, two years ago, that King Charles of England had forged a pact with us, and with Spain? But as I recall, there was very little discussion of the details of the pact at the time. The King of England had dissolved the English Parliament, and taken upon himself the burden of rule, as God truly intended for a King. And has not his courageous action borne fruit? England is the stronger for him.
It appals me that King Charles should be expected to share his government with a rabble of commoners. Yes, truly! Absurd is it not? And for this, many shook their fists in the very face of God Himself, murmuring to usurp the rule of the anointed King! Now is not the time, with the present difficulties between Madame de Medicis and His Majesty, King Louis, but perhaps in time, we may lend the aid of our strong arm to set England once more on her true path."
Every time he gesticulates, I catch a slight waft of the scent of
Parma violets and really good leather.
The sitting is finished a few minutes later than planned, but slightly short of the half-hour we had been given. In these crowded minutes, Monsieur Duchesne has added definition to the face and hair, particularly the moustache, and defined the hands more clearly, adding quick swatches of color to the cardinal's robes which presumably will be completed in the studio. Another ten minutes or so to clean brushes and palette, and we are ready to leave once more.
"The Three Musketeers". Although I have been completely unable to catch more than a distant glimpse of the great man however, it seems my prejudice was entirely without foundation. Far from being the underhanded, scheming and ruthless politician of popular fiction, the various people I have spoken to have contributed to a much more charismatic picture.
children and grandchildren. 
