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The Second Empire (1852-70) served as the
point of convergence for the first substantive wave of women sculptors
in France. In his Dictionnaire des Sculpteurs de l'Ecole Française
au XIXe Siècle (1914-1921), Stanislas Lami included at
least thirteen women whose careers either encompassed or began sometime
during the Second Empire.1 More still
appeared in salon guides and reviews. While most of the women active
at this time received only the briefest critical attention, a small
number stood out as major artistic figures: Marguerite Dubois d'Avesnes,
among the first to address the lacuna of sculpture instruction for
women, taught several students including Charlotte Besnard, who
in turn debuted in 1869 and went on to launch a successful career
during the Third Republic. The widowed Marie Lefèvre-Deumier
was able to work her way into the imperial household to become an
unofficial portraitist, somewhat akin to the role also played for
a time by the more widely recognized Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux.2
More prominent still were Noémie Constant, known as "Claude
Vignon," and the celebrated Duchesse de Castiglione Colonna,
who exhibited under the name "Marcello." Almost completely
unknown today, Hélène Bertaux seems to have enjoyed
the greatest professional standing of her female colleagues during
the 19th-century (fig. 1). Launching her career in relative obscurity
at the beginning of the Second Empire, her initial success was due
not only to her considerable technical competence, but also to her
strategic appeals for support as a woman artist. She particularly
sought out government officials and others with close ties to the
imperial household, whose support represented an important mark
of official distinction that opened the doors to other opportunities.
Born in 1825, the daughter of a minor ornamental
sculptor, Bertaux began working in her father's studio at the age
of fifteen. Her formative training, first under her father, and
later with Augustin Dumont, provided her with a technical competence
and competitive edge unusual for a woman at that time.3
Conforming to a conservative (academic) ideal, her work appealed
to a wide market of both public and private patrons. She enjoyed
an extensive exhibition record including several awards, such as
a gold medal from the 1889 Universal Exposition, and the hors
concours designation (meaning that her work was not subject
to jury approval for the annual Salon exhibitions). Her name figured
prominently in the press, including numerous exhibition reviews
in well-circulating journals such as the Gazette des Beaux-Arts,
and L'Art Français. In addition to her professional pursuits
as an artist, Bertaux instituted the Union of Women Painters, Sculptors
and Engravers in 1881 to provide both successful and emerging women
artists with a forum in which to expose their work. As president
of the Union for many years, she was also editor of its monthly
journal. A vocal champion of women's professional artistic advancement,
she established the first sculpture school for women, set up several
monetary awards for women artists, and became a dominant force in
the crusade to force the Ecole des Beaux-arts to open its doors
to them. Towards the end of her life, after a long campaign to get
women onto the salon jury, she was finally elected in 1896 as the
first (and only) woman to serve until her death in 1910.
Well aware of the path towards success as
she began her professional life, Bertaux sought access to elite
patronage through numerous letters of solicitation. A particular
series of letters from her requesting the state purchase of an early
relief of The Assumption of the Virgin, offers insight into
her strategies. Going directly to the top, she addressed herself
to the Superintendent of Fine Arts Emilien de Nieuwerkerke, to the
Emperor Napoleon III, and perhaps also to his cousin the Princess
Mathilde. Perceptive and persistent, she gauged her audience and
submitted her request accordingly. Appealing to empathy, paternalism
and discernment, in each case she called attention to her unusual
position as a woman facing the difficulties of succeeding in a male
dominated profession. While it took years from her first letter
in 1859 to the eventual purchase of the relief in 1868, in the meantime,
she became well-known within the art bureaucracy, receiving other
lucrative commissions that helped to launch and eventually sustain
her career.
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Bertaux began soliciting the government for
support around 1859 when she made her Assumption relief on
speculation. Not long after, in 1861, the state made its first purchase
of her work-not the relief, but rather a holy water basin depicting
The Three Theological Virtues in the guise of cherubs, and
an elaborate collection box entitled For the Poor!. For the
latter, the state paid 6,000 francs, a very generous sum for such
a small-scale sculpture.4 Both pieces
ended up in the church at Saint Gratien, near the summer ch‰teau
of the Emperor's cousin, the Princess Mathilde.
While the Emperor shied away from direct
involvement in the arts administration, his cousin Mathilde, an
artist herself, seems to have played an indirect but powerful role.
Following her separation from an abusive husband, she befriended
Count Emilien de Nieuwerkerke and made him into her protégé.
In a position to further his career, she pressed for his appointment
as Director-General of Museums in 1849, and used her influence to
secure his subsequent promotions and awards, including his election
into the Academy of Fine Arts, his induction into the Legion of
Honor, and his appointment in 1863 as Superintendent of Fine Arts,
a post especially created for him by the Emperor.5
It is likely that Bertaux knew of Mathilde's connection to the Superintendent,
and tried to ingratiate herself to both. While it is impossible
to determine who became her greatest ally, both seemed favorably
disposed towards encouraging women artists in general, and it was
during Nieuwerkerke's tenure that the state eventually purchased
the Assumption.
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Although there is no direct evidence linking
Bertaux and Mathilde, in an undated letter from among the records
maintained by the art bureaucracy, and very likely written after
the early 1861 acquisitions, Bertaux asked an unnamed "Madame"
to use her influence to persuade the administration to purchase
her relief of the Assumption. This anonymous person to whom
Bertaux had addressed her request would almost certainly have been
Mathilde, since no other woman at the time held any substantial
influence over the art bureaucracy. Lacking as it was in extreme
formality, the letter probably could not have been intended for
the Empress, who was also supportive of women artists, but usually
remained fairly removed from administrative matters.
Encouraged by the acquisitions for Saint
Gratien, Bertaux had sent a second appeal earlier in 1861 to the
Minister of State to purchase her relief. Despite the fact that
her request was accompanied by signatures of support from several
government deputies, she received no response. Following this rebuff
she wrote her letter to the unnamed woman:
Madame, encouraged by those familiar
with the nobility of your character, I dare, for the first time
in my life, address myself to one so distinguished, in order to
speak the language of an artist hardly established in the world.
For several years my name has figured in
the sculpture section in the guide to the salon, where I had the
honor at the last exhibition to see my work purchased by His Majesty
the Emperor. Encouraged
I then worked on an Assumption
[T]he
work, seen in my atelier by distinguished individuals, was judged
by them worthy of acquisition for the church of Bessuire
[T]his
request, signed by the most eminent names was addressed six months
ago to the Minister of State. What has become of it I do not know.
It was then Madame, that the thought came to me to summon your
benevolent regard to me. See me as a woman, a wife and mother
who
wants to triumph in her position
If you deign, Madame, to turn your eyes
towards me, to personally order a report from one of the inspectors
regarding the merit of the work, if the report is favorable, and
finally, by happy chance, [if] a work in marble or in stone would
be entrusted to me by his excellence the Minister, I would owe
you all my [illegible word] Madame, and fulfilled in my lofty
obligations, I will acquire a name among the great religious sculptors-a
place quite difficult to attain, a woman's normal hardship making
very difficult the lasting fears, the long months, during which
a free arm must take up the chisel in order to produce a work
If I dared to finish here with a request,
I would entreat you, Madame, to consent to grant me the favor
of an audience in which I could properly tell you how much I am
glad as a woman that I was spared from making my request to these
gentlemen whom I no longer know.6
Whether or not Bertaux was able to have an audience
with Mathilde (or to whomever the letter was intended) is impossible
to say. That the letter was forwarded to the proper bureaucrats indicates
that someone had at least taken an interest in her situation "as
a woman, wife, and mother" whose "normal hardships"
made success elusive. In any case, despite Bertaux's bold attempt,
the state did not immediately acquire her Assumption. For that
it took several more years and several more letters, to the Emperor,
(though it was undoubtedly intercepted by the art administration before
it ever reached his eyes), and later to Nieuwerkerke. Like her initial
letter to the Minister of State, these had signed endorsements from
deputies and other officials scribbled along the margins. The relief
had already been exhibited, receiving an honorable mention in 1863,
and Bertaux had since received medals for other work. Enumerating
these proven qualifications in her 1867 letter of solicitation to
Napoleon III, she asked him for a commission in bronze:
Madame Léon Bertaux, statuaire,
begs your Majesty to kindly grant the favor of a purchase of a large
bas relief, in a unique bronze version
representing the Assumption
of the Virgin
[T]he qualifications that she dares to put forward
in order to appeal to the kindness of your Majesty, are: the difficulties
that she met, as a woman, to share in official commissions; her
exhibitions, uninterrupted for ten years; and two medals that were
awarded to her by the jury for the salons of 1864 and 1867.
She begs your Majesty to kindly grant a
favorable regard to this request, to encourage her future, the
whole of which is destined to that of a sculptor.
She has the honor to be, with the most
profound respect to your Majesty, your very humble and loyal subject.7
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Receiving no response, she finally wrote to Nieuwerkerke.
Despite her considerable accomplishments Bertaux was in an awkward
situation. A more ambitious statue, Young Gaul, had already
been purchased that year, and she had also received a commission for
an allegorical relief of Navigation to appear as a pediment
on the Tuileries palace, no doubt placing her in a position, to the
eyes of the bureaucrats, as a woman having too recently received too
many favors. To Nieuwerkerke then-with whom she had already had dealings
through other government acquisitions of her work-she made flattering
appeals to his chivalry and artistic discernment:
[Y]ou are, sir, my natural protector. It
is therefore to you alone in this circumstance that I once again
place my destiny.
The Emperor has dedicated his life to the
improvement of the working class; you have dedicated yours to
the happiness and prosperity of the arts and the artists the most
deserving due to their talent
[I] am a woman, and because of that
reason official commissions are lacking despite two medals. For
ten years there have only been the acquisitions which I owe to
your goodness; the two groups for Saint-Gratien and the young
Gaul. I would like to pay my debt of gratitude through merit,
and thus I must work very hard, and our [type of] work is expensive.8
In 1868 Bertaux's relief was finally acquired
for 4,000 francs and soon followed by other commissions. Considering
her substantial professional success even before the purchase of
her relief, it seems strange that she would have pressed her case
so adamantly. In addition to the several official acquisitions and
her Tuileries commission, she had also received a commission in
1865 from the city of Paris for statues of Saint Philip and
Saint Mathew for the church of St. Laurent, as well as one
in 1868 for a pediment relief of The Pascal Lamb for the
entrance of the church of St. Francis Xavior. However, Bertaux was
neither independently wealthy nor a dilettante. Working without
outside resources, she was trying to secure an income that would
allow her to maintain a large workshop as well as support an upper-bourgeois
way of life. She did not want the odd handouts or awards given to
minor sculptors, but rather the steady and major commissions necessary
to sustain a serious professional career. These were difficult to
come by, as Bertaux pointed out, especially for a woman for whom
patronage was seen more as a favor than as her due.
Links
For information about women's access to artistic training in
19th-Century France see the Dahesh Museum exhibition site for "Overcoming
All Obstacles: The Women of the AcadŽmie Julian" at: http://www.daheshmuseum.org/exhibitions.html.
I have not found any sites that mention Bertaux.
However, there are several sources of information on 19th-century
French sculptor Camille Claudel, including a site at: http://www.artcyclopedia.com/artists/claudel_camille.html.
The National Museum of Women in the Arts also
has sites for Claudel and 19th-century French painter/sculptor Rosa
Bonheur at: http://www.nmwa.org.
Other web sites for information on women artists
include the Women Artists Web Resource at: http://www.artsednet.getty.edu/ArtsEdNet/Resources/Women/index.html
the Women Artists Archive at: http://libweb.sonoma.edu/special/waa/html.
References>>
Author's Bio>>
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