Nineteenth Century Medical Guide

Chapter 368 364. The countess also has differences

Living in a big city like Paris, no matter what your artistic attainments are, money is always an unavoidable topic.

Some geniuses are often covered with a strange veil as they flow through history, leading people to closely link the material difficulties they experienced in their early years with the setbacks and blows they suffered in their careers, thereby ignoring a fact:

In fact, a considerable part of the so-called difficulties are caused precisely by their arrogant attitude, extravagant spending and pursuit of a superior material life.

Kawei was also trapped in this cognitive vortex before coming here.

A young man who is just 20 years old has earned assets comparable to those of the upper class nobles by relying only on the skills he used to support himself in his previous life. This will inevitably make him feel pity for artists who are still in the stage of underappreciating their talents.

"Ha, Manet's painting." Melanie frowned slightly, "I didn't expect Dr. Carvey to have his own unique views on art."

"The countess misunderstood, I actually don't know much about art." Kawei told the truth this time, "I just wanted to help him by paying for it."

"If it were anyone else, I would definitely help."

Melanie took a slender pipe from the servant, lit the tobacco, burned out sparks, and took two puffs: "But Manet, you may not know his origins. His father is the chief judicial officer, and his grandfather They are also judges, and their family owns a full 60 hectares of real estate in Genevieve."

Smoke slowly floated into the air from the smile on her lips. Melanie held her head in her hands and continued:

"It is better to buy Monet's paintings than to buy his paintings. 800 francs is not enough for Manet to spend for a week, and a casual meal may cost dozens of francs. But if it is put in Monet's pocket, it should be It will last for several months, and at least it will allow him to find a decent model.”

Having said this, Melanie couldn't help but stand up, walked to the corner of the hall, and pointed at a portrait with a walking stick:

"This is the work that Monet selected for the official salon this year. I'm not saying that the lady in green clothes in the painting is not beautiful enough, you should understand what I mean. I just hope that he can find a few professionals, preferably a little bit Instead of just looking for an ordinary woman you love, wearing everyday clothes and posing casually.

If it weren't for his outstanding and surprising painting techniques, the old antiques in the official salon would never have chosen a portrait of a girl from the bourgeois camp. Maybe this is love, it can always create incredible miracles. "

She stood there with her hands on her hips admiring it for a long time, and then turned to Kavi with a smile: "Look at the painting in your hand again. It has the same superb painting skills, and even a more transcendent expression than Monet. But there is no love in it. , of course there is no hatred, just emotionless ridicule!”

Kavi first nodded to confirm her statement, and then made a twist with two sips of red wine: "It's good to buy a laugh for 800 francs. I'm afraid there isn't much ridicule in Paris now."

Melanie raised her eyebrows, took two puffs of cigarette, and her mood instantly improved: "Since you are so financially minded, I will make an exception."

She called the housekeeper, prepared a suitable picture frame, and hung Manet's Flute Boy in the corner of the living room.

The location can only be described as terrible. It is 5 meters above the ground and quite far away from the aisle on the second floor. You will definitely not find it at a casual glance. Even if you find it, you will have to use a high-power magnifying glass to see clearly the content of the painting. This kind of thing is often used by collectors with a penchant for details.

They would rather count the number of buttons and sashes on the leggings of figures in the classic academic Meissonier paintings than raise their heads to take a second look at "inferior" paintings.

It's already a sign of respect for the hostess if you don't curse.

Monet's "Lady in Green - Camille" is definitely much more popular, with mixed reviews, but it is enough to make the famous British poet and critic Swinburne stop and chat for a few words, which shows its excellence.

"If love is like a fragrant rose, I am its green leaves,

We grow together, no matter the weather is dark or sunny.”

"What a poem."

"The words are simple, but it is endlessly memorable."

“Being able to stand in the unique perspective of a model and think about the mood when being painted on the canvas is as incredible as Monet’s unique painting method to show his love.”

Words of praise kept coming from all around, and even some connoisseurs with a critical eye put aside their prejudices and cast approving glances.

In the salon exhibition, such lively scenes abound, but Kawei could only sit on the sofa, unable to blend in.

But his "loneliness" is different from that of other people who cannot integrate into social circles.

Just like the young man and woman standing in the corner, stretching their necks together to admire the picture of the boy playing the flute. What they are showing now is not their own shortcomings in ability, but just like Manet, they want to satirize the attitudes of today's society.

"It's really a bold technique, just like what Mr. Zola said." The woman was deeply attracted by the painting hanging in an inconspicuous position, completely ignoring her own landscape painting that was open to criticism. "It's not beautiful, nor is it profound. The core idea is shocking.”

The man was several years younger than her and looked more youthful, but his eyes seemed to swallow him up in one gulp: "In my opinion, you who are willing to devote your life to the art of oil painting, Ms. Morisot, you Life is more exciting!”

Chi Guoguo was teasing, but what he said was true.

There can be women in Paris who paint watercolors, and there can be women who paint fan paintings or lampshade paintings. It doesn't matter if their status is lower, but there should be no oil paintings. This is a rule adhered to by the upper class and cannot be betrayed.

But women are dipped in both.

She is the daughter of a high-ranking French official. As long as she doesn't act recklessly, her wealth will be enough to support herself for several lifetimes, and she has no worries about livelihood. I have been studying oil painting since I was a child and have never made much money from painting, but I have never experienced the difficult life that other young painters have experienced.

Faced with frivolous love words, Berthe Morisot did not care: "You are Mr. Swinburne's friend. You should talk more elegantly. You shouldn't talk like this."

"What does it matter?" The man looked back at Swinburne, "Do you have to prepare your lines as carefully as he does every time you pursue a beauty? Don't you think the same dialogues and rhymes are boring?"

"You are old enough to be my nephew, and you are quite different."

"Are you dissing my age? I am already 18 years old."

Men think that the focus of discussion falls on an insignificant age, and that makes most of the problem.

But he didn't realize that Morisot's thoughts had already sunk into the painting in front of him, and it couldn't be figured out by just grabbing a few spoons of water: "You are just like the boy playing the flute in the painting, you don't understand anything. Do what you think is right without fear. You are only 17, you will understand when you are older.”

"You're obviously 18, but you're only 25."

"What's the difference? It's not like I don't have a nephew as old as you. He's about to graduate from college." After saying that, Morisot left him and went to Melanie to find out who painted the painting.

At this time, Swinburne, who was still lyrical just now, noticed them and walked up to ask: "What's the matter, Maupassant?"

"The confession failed."

"You are so persistent, just like when you rescued me from the freezing water by the Seine." Swinburne advised, "Forget it, she's not that beautiful." "Isn't she beautiful? Maupassant, like most men, is always sensitive to a woman's beauty, "Perhaps, she is not particularly beautiful, but she has a certain unique temperament, which is different from the models here and the countess, as if she had never The portrait shows a real lady from the 16th century."

Swinburne looked at the many paintings of women around him and was still imagining Morisot's expression. He never thought that Maupassant turned around and left.

"what happened?"

"I can't stay here any longer."

"Where are you going?"

Maupassant had no inhibitions: “Place Pigalle!”

Swinburne still had the reserve of an old nobleman and a cultured man in his heart: "How can you go to a place like that!?"

"It's too depressing here! I need to experience a calmer life and liberate my suppressed soul." Maupassant walked towards the door without looking back. Before leaving, he reminded him, "Mr. Swinburne, you promise All my expenses for the next week will be paid.”

"Stop joking, how could I go to a place like that."

"Then I will make a place for you as a perverted old man in the next short story."

Only halfway through what he said, the person had already left the door, and the voice was getting farther and farther away and could not be heard clearly. Swinburne knew that he was not joking, so he had to bite the bullet and follow him: "Tell me clearly, who is this old man?! I'm only 40 years old!!!"

Place Pigalle is not a secret place, and most of the people present know it. Of course Kavi also knew Laura, who had the surgery on him, from there. It was the most sincere place in Paris, both physically and financially.

Maupassant, who is bohemian by nature, is really not suitable here, especially when the women's attention is not on the young men, but on the intrigues between each other, which will make him feel even more suffocated.

As soon as Morisot found Melanie, her questions immediately aroused criticism from many people.

They are all similar to As's, which means that Manet has an arrogant character and his paintings are worse than horse dung. Of course, during the discussion, they did not forget to step on Morisot and ridicule her for dreaming of becoming an artist through oil painting.

Morisot has long been used to this, but Melanie can't get used to them.

She didn't care whether Morisot had suffered verbal violence, nor did she want to know how much Manet's paintings were worth, or whether they were worth anything at all. Now she asked the housekeeper to hang the painting. She didn't ask for their praise. She just hoped that those who participated in the art exhibition could control their bad mouths.

Since you can't manage it well, don't blame her for being rude.

"What are you talking nonsense about?"

Melanie has long been eyeing the leading ones who are full of firepower: "Manet's character is a bit bad, but his painting skills are impeccable. If Manet's paintings are horse dung, then Masoni, who always paints military paintings, E is a weapons dealer, and Eli Delaunay, who draws cats and dogs, is a pet butler.”

Everyone was silent. Regardless of whether what was said was right or not, the hostess had spoken, and she had to give her face.

However, Melanie had no intention of stopping at all. She made jokes about those mean women with the help of the red wine of the Chateau de Papes she had just drank: "But Emma is different, she is like the sun in winter, in a It rises in one place and sets in another, warming every corner of Paris.”

Suddenly the scene became extremely embarrassing, and everyone who heard this sentence looked at Countess Potocka. She was so angry that she grabbed her male companion, whom she had just met for a short time, and hurriedly left the salon.

This is a classic example of upper-class wordplay.

In French, the verbs "to rise" and "to fall" also mean "to wake up" and "to go to bed." Melanie's joke alludes to the fact that the Countess of Potocac is as ambiguous as the rumors. It even got to the point where she would have sex with everyone she met.

"And you, As! You're the sharpest talker!" Melanie pointed at the communication guru with a smile on his face, "Don't hug the rabbit every time you come to my place, causing Jis to be covered with your drops. Face powder, it’s so ugly!”

"Yes, yes, countess, it's our fault."

Asi is thicker-skinned than anyone else and knows how to advance and retreat. He understands that he has offended the other party and immediately tries to smooth things over: "Let's look at other things. Let's break up. Let's break up."

There are also distinctions between the countess and the countess.

Melanie not only has an outstanding husband, she is also the daughter of a baron, and she also has a place in the imperial court. She is not on the same level as a mediocre woman who comes from a purely capitalist class and can only appear in salons.

Holding the pipe in her hand, she bent down and picked up her beloved little Keith. She finally returned to her usual calmness, at least on her face: "Oh, look at you, Dr. Carvey, this painting has caused me so much trouble." How much trouble."

Kawei quickly apologized: "I was rude, I'd better ask the housekeeper to remove the painting."

"Withdraw? Wouldn't it be a slap in the face if you withdraw now?"

Melanie sat back on the sofa angrily and pulled Morisot over: "This is Berthe Morisot, the greatest female painter of our time. Her father used to be a high-ranking official in the provinces, and now he is the chairman of the Imperial Audit Court. Auditor, big shot."

Once work and money are related, even a small official can exert great energy.

The two greeted each other in a more casual way, and then brought up the topic: "I would like to ask how you obtained this work."

The longer Kawei stayed here, the more uncomfortable he became. Now he just wanted to leave as soon as possible. He answered rather loosely: "It's just an ordinary transaction after an encounter."

"Did you meet Mr. Manet?"

"No, it's his brother."

Although Morisot came from a high background, he did not have much social skills. After asking two questions, he couldn't calm down and got straight to the point: "I don't want to waste time. I am very interested in this painting. I wonder if Dr. Carvey would like to Willing to sell it to me."

(End of this chapter)