The Versatile Master Artist

”On the contrary, back then there were quite a few who regarded him as a playboy.”

Anna muttered to herself in a trance.

”You know, my great-great-grandfather was the first in the family to proclaim at a public banquet, ’If given the choice, I would rather be a painter than a Colonel Officer in the Cavalry Legion by the Emperor’s side.’ He almost drove his father crazy with that statement, and even his friends and aides were perplexed.”

”Historically, during the same winter he made that remark, the Old Count’s father, whose health had been poor, passed away. It’s hard to say these events weren’t directly related.”

Anna spoke in the tone of telling a cold joke: ”Sounds like a proper nonconforming playboy, right?”

Eliot awkwardly twitched his nose.

She hadn’t expected Miss Ilina to bring this up at such a moment.

The female secretary could imagine.

When the Old Count uttered such words, the atmosphere at the banquet must have been so silent you could hear a pin drop.

”Nonconformist” is indeed an accurate assessment.

In that era of heavy military aristocracy, where every notable aristocratic offspring tried their utmost to network and find a position within the Emperor’s court.

Making such a statement,

was akin to in Dongxia’s feudal era, the eldest son of a high official’s family declaring he’d rather perform in a play than attend to the emperor as an Imperial Guard.

Being dragged out and beaten to death by servants wouldn’t have been unjust.

Admittedly, artists, musicians, and writers had much higher social status compared to performers of the lowest class.

But in the core circles of the great aristocratic families.

There were only two career paths.

Either follow the traditional military aristocratic route like German Army General Ludendorff, or the high civil service path from the Upper House like Bismarck the Prime Minister.

Everything else was merely playboy behavior.

To be honest.

Whether it was World War I General Ludendorff or the Iron Chancellor Bismarck.

They all came from gradually declining minor aristocracy, so in terms of family prestige, they were far behind the Ilyena family.

Having a son who liked to make declarations completely out of tune with the times could indeed frustrate a father to death; it’s not without possibility.

Eliot contemplated Miss Ilina’s mood.

She hesitated.

Was Anna now hoping to hear agreement that the Old Count was a playboy who angered his father to death, or was she hoping to hear a rebuttal?

It’s really quite a dilemma!

”The Old Count simply had a more forward-thinking vision.”

Eliot finally decided to choose the latter.

The secretary earnestly considered her past impression of her employer’s devotion and longing for art.

If Lady Yelena were placed in that era.

Surely she too would do similarly quirky things in everyone’s eyes.

”That aspect is indeed correct, since everyone lost miserably in World War I, and Austria’s role in World War II was equally inglorious. In the long run, the Ilyena family indeed needs to thank the Old Count for shifting the family’s focus entirely toward the arts. This inadvertently allowed our ancestors to pull out from the quagmire of war and remain unharmed amidst the collapse of the intricate military aristocracy system.”

”Not to mention, it’s filled with black humor that nowadays artists are even more respected than aristocrats or counts.”

Anna said with a smile.

From the nineteenth century to the twentieth century to the twenty-first century, the social status of artists has always been rising. Meanwhile, the nobility system has been continually crumbling, weathering constant storms.

Art has already integrated into everyone’s life, whereas the likes of His Majesty the Emperor or Marquis are outdated remnants, long irrelevant.

As early as 1899, when musician Strauss passed away.

Austrian citizens gave this beloved artist a burial with the same loftiness as burying a monarch, over 100,000 citizens attended his funeral.

And in modern times.

Even when Queen Elizabeth invited an Italian painter she favored to dine with her at Buckingham Palace, the artist maintained his decorum.

After many invitations, with sincerity comparable to three humble visits to the cottage, the master painter leisurely agreed to meet his ”fan.”

Yet on the European Continent, it’s not uncommon to find a fellow with a rare Baron or Count title on his passport, cycling through streets delivering Domino’s pizzas every day.

The swallows that once nested before the halls of Wang and Xie, now fly into ordinary homes.

Without the protection of ancestral wealth.

Nobility is now mere pseudo-upper class, while artists whose works are worth thousands truly are the elites.

The Ilyena family remains so socially respected largely thanks to the contributions of ’Oil Painting’ magazine.

Much more significant than the arbitrary Count title and Miss Anna Ilina, from whose surname the Austrian law removed the middle name ’Von.’

”Just as the management of ’Oil Painting’ now thinks you’re stubborn and unwilling to adapt, but ultimately the future will prove you’re the one who’s right. I think you and your ancestors share similar qualities.”

The female secretary hoped to dispel the somewhat oppressive solemn atmosphere around and quietly offered praise.

”Thank you, Eliot, I’m very touched.”

Miss Ilina turned her head, looked at the young girl in professional attire behind her, and nodded to express her gratitude.

”However, what I wanted to express wasn’t praise for my great-great-grandfather’s decision as heroic; I intended to talk about something else.”