Chapter 51 Chapter 51

A few months passed in a flash. After thinking about it for a while, Philip seemed to realize a truth from the things in front of him: all real painters, writers and musicians always have such a force that drives them to devote all their body and mind to their careers. In the future, they will inevitably subordinate their personal life to the entire artistic career.They are obviously succumbing to some influence, but they are not aware of it, they are driven and fooled by instinct like a demon, but they don't know it.Life slipped by them, as if they had never lived.Philip felt that life should be lived happily, not just as a subject that can be included in the picture.He was to go through the world, to absorb from its moments all the passion that life had to offer.In the end, he was determined to take decisive action and was prepared to face the consequences.Determined, he intends to act immediately.It just so happened that tomorrow morning was the day when Foinet came to give lectures at the school. Philip decided to ask him directly: Is it worth continuing to learn painting?He always took to heart the painter's advice to Fanny Price.It sounds harsh, but it hits the nail on the head.Philip could not get Fanny out of his mind at all.Without her, the studio seemed unfamiliar.The raising of a hand or the opening of a mouth by a girl in the class often startled him and reminded him of Fanny.She was more present when she was dead than when she was alive.Philip often dreamed of her at night, and was sometimes awakened by his own screams.She must have suffered and suffered a lot in life--the thought made Philip's heart shudder.

Philip knew that on the days when Foinet came to his studio to teach, he always dined at a little restaurant in the Rue Odessa.Philip ate his lunch in a hurry in order to be outside the tavern in time to wait.He paced back and forth on the street full of pedestrians, and at last he saw M. Foinet walking towards him with his head bowed.Philip was very nervous, but he bit the bullet and went forward. "Excuse me, sir, but I want to delay you and have a few words to say to you." Foinet glanced at him, recognized him, but grimly did not greet him. "Go ahead," he said. "I have been studying painting with you here for almost two years. I would like you to tell me frankly, do you think it is worthwhile for me to continue?"

Philip's voice trembled slightly.Foinet continued to walk forward without raising his head.Philip watched his face from the sidelines, but he didn't see any expression on his face. "I don't understand you.". "My family is poor. If I don't have talent, I think it's better to change careers as soon as possible." "Do you have talent, don't you yourself not know?" "All my friends think they are geniuses, but I know that some of them lack self-knowledge." Foine's unforgiving mouth curled slightly, with a smile on the corner of his mouth, and asked:

"You live near here?" Philip gave him the address of his studio.Foinet turned around. "Let's go to your studio. You must show me your work." "Now?" cried Philip. "Why not?" Philip was speechless.He walked beside the painter silently, his heart fluttered, and he couldn't tell how nervous he was.It never occurred to him that Foinet would want to see his work immediately.He really wanted to ask Foinet: would he mind if he was asked to come another day, or if he let himself take the work to his studio?In this way Philip could prepare his mind early so that he would not be caught off guard like he was now.Philip was so flustered that he trembled.From the bottom of his heart, he hoped that after reading his works, Foinet would have that rare smile on his face, and he would also agree.He shook hands and said, "Pasmal. Do well, young man. You've got a talent, a bit of it." Philip's heart warmed at the thought.What a relief that would be!What a joy!From now on, he can move forward bravely.What are the hardships, poverty, and disappointments, so long as the triumphant end is reached?He never slackened, and it was heartbreaking when all his hard work turned out to be in vain.With a start he remembered that Fanny Price had said exactly that!When they reached the dwelling Philip was seized with terror.If he had had the guts, he might have asked Foinet to go away.Now he doesn't want to know the truth.As they entered the house the porter handed Philip a letter, which he glanced at and recognized in his uncle's handwriting.Foinet followed Philippe upstairs.Philippe could think of nothing to say, neither did Foinet, and nothing was more disturbing than this silence.distracted.The professor sat down, Philip said nothing, but put the oil painting returned by the art exhibition in front of Foinet.Foinet nodded, but remained silent.Philip then showed Foinet two portraits of Ruth Chalice which he had painted, two or three landscapes which he had made at Morey, and several sketches.

"That's all," said Philip, with a dry, embarrassed laugh. Foinet rolled a cigarette himself and lit it. "You don't have much furniture, do you?" he finally asked. "Very little," answered Philip, with a sudden chill, "not enough to live on." "There is nothing more humiliating in the world than worrying about your livelihood all the time. I despise people who treat money like dirt. They are either hypocrites or fools. Money is like a sixth sense. Don't try to give full play to the remaining five senses. Without an adequate income half the hope of life is truncated. You have to be careful not to pay more than a shilling for a shilling you earn Poverty is the most powerful spur to an artist, you often hear people say. People who make such high-pitched statements have never tasted poverty themselves. They don't know how humble it makes you. It makes You suffer endless humiliation, kill your ambition, even eat your soul like a cancer. What the artist asks is not wealth itself, but the security that wealth provides: with it, personal dignity can be maintained. , work unhindered, be generous, straightforward, and maintain an independent personality. From the bottom of my heart, I pity the kind of artist who lives entirely on art, whether it is a pen or a painting."

Philip quietly put away the paintings he had just taken out one by one. "Talk and listen--I think your remark seems to be that I have little hope of success." M. Foinet shrugged slightly. "Your hands are not unlucky. It seems that as long as you are willing to work hard and persevere, there is no reason why you can't be a conscientious and capable painter. At that time, you will find that there are hundreds of peers who are still in time." Not as good as you, there are hundreds of thousands of peers who are as good as you. In the things you showed me, I didn't see brilliant talent, only hard work and wisdom. You will never be more than two Third-rate level."

Philip pretended to be calm, and replied in a rather composed tone: "I'm sorry to trouble you so much. I don't know how to thank you." M. Foinet got up, seemed to be taking his leave, but then changed his mind, stopped, and put a hand on Philip's shoulder. "If you want my advice, I'd say, take courage, make a decision, and try your luck in something else. I'll say it to you, though it doesn't sound right: If I were in your At this age, if someone comes to me with this advice and makes me accept it, then I will be willing to give him everything I have in this world."

Philip looked up at him in surprise.The painter opened his lips and forced a smile, but his eyes were still so serious and melancholy. "Wait until you regret it and then discover your mediocrity and incompetence. It will be painful, but no matter how painful it is, it will not help improve a person's temperament." When he said the last few words, he chuckled and walked out of the room quickly. Philip picked up his uncle's letter mechanically, and was disturbed by his handwriting, for his aunt always wrote to him.But for nearly three months, she has been bedridden.Philip once offered to go back to England to visit her, but she politely declined, fearing that it would affect his studies.She did not want to trouble him, and said to wait until August, when Philip would be back at the parsonage for a couple of weeks, she hoped.In case of serious illness, she will inform him.She hoped to see him anyway before she died.Since this letter was written by his uncle, it must be that his aunt was too ill to lift a pen.Philip opened the letter and wrote:

Dear Philip: It is with great sadness that I inform you of the sad news that your dear aunt passed away this morning.Due to the sudden worsening of the illness, it was too late to call you.She herself had been fully prepared for this, and in safe obedience to the divine will of our Lord Jesus Christ, she died, confident that she would be resurrected in heaven.Before your aunt died, she hoped that you could come to the funeral, so I believe you will come back as soon as possible.Needless to say, I have a great deal of business pressing upon my shoulders right now, and I am quite distraught.I believe you can take care of all this for me.

your dear uncle william carey