The two painters saw in three of these pictures a servile
imitation of Dutch landscapes and interiors by Metzu, in the fourth a
copy of Rembrandt's "Lesson of Anatomy."
"Still imitating!" said Schinner. "Ah! Fougeres can't manage to be
original."
"You ought to do something else than painting," said Bridau.
"What?" asked Fougeres.
"Fling yourself into literature."
Fougeres lowered his head like a sheep when it rains. Then he asked
and obtained certain useful advice, and retouched his pictures before
taking them to Elie Magus. Elie paid him twenty-five francs apiece. At
that price of course Fougeres earned nothing; neither did he lose,
thanks to his sober living. He made a few excursions to the boulevard
to see what became of his pictures, and there he underwent a singular
hallucination. His neat, clean paintings, hard as tin and shiny as
porcelain, were covered with a sort of mist; they looked like old
daubs. Magus was out, and Pierre could obtain no information on this
phenomenon. He fancied something was wrong with his eyes.
The painter went back to his studio and made more pictures. After
seven years of continued toil Fougeres managed to compose and execute
quite passable work. He did as well as any artist of the second class.
Elie bought and sold all the paintings of the poor Breton, who earned
laboriously about two thousand francs a year while he spent but twelve
hundred.
At the Exhibition of 1829, Leon de Lora, Schinner, and Bridau, who all
three occupied a great position and were, in fact, at the head of the
art movement, were filled with pity for the perseverance and the
poverty of their old friend; and they caused to be admitted into the
grand salon of the Exhibition, a picture by Fougeres.
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