Manof Chpt4

Chapter 4

Later, Marie-Claude called ahead to tell the chef that there would be a guest for dinner. "Please prepare the Red salon for tonight."

They continued until Brive then headed east. Soon, they turned north, and after a while, in the distance, Bruce saw the Chateau Hautefort for the first time. He was astonished.

(Arnie Greenberg's drawing of Hautefort Castle, sitting like a royal jewel on a hillside)

Bruce had seen many of the great chateaux of France that had been built for royalty. But he was not ready for what greeted him on his arrival at Hautefort.

His first view was from the plain a few miles away. It stood at the end of a wooded spur majestically high above its feudal village, unlike the usual rough stone fortresses of the Perigord region complete with slated defense towers, a formal garden, moat and an imposing wall. It was floodlit, which made it look like it was floating in air now that darkness was engulfing the plain. It was enough to take your breath away, and as they approached, the structure took on an even more moving magnificence.

(The drawbridge just above the moat)

Bruce mused that the chateau had probably been remodeled over the years.

Little Fanfare on Climbing the Stairs

There was little fanfare when they climbed the stairs onto the main drawing room landing. There were three more floors above, and Bruce was shown to his room by a liveried valet.

"Dinner will be in half an hour," the servant stated. He placed Bruce's bags on the desk and left.

Bruce had seen chateau interiors before, but nothing matched this. It was done in Louis XV furnishings, all red and white. The room was dominated by 16-foot-high windows, an oak armoire and a double bed with a padded headboard. It was all lit by a crystal chandelier, and on each side of the bed there was a gold chair done with petit point tapestry.

(The cavernous entrance to the castle)

On the walls were portraits of ancestors dressed in military attire. The floor had thick area rugs that looked and felt new but were obviously not. This was a good example of gracious living on the grand and elegant style.

The bathroom was immense with double sinks set into marble counters that were sparkling white. The plumbing was ultra-modern with gold taps and an abundance of hot water.

Exactly half an hour later there was a knock at the door.
"Dinner is ready, monsieur," a servant announced and showed Bruce to a small dining room. Marie-Claude was waiting, dressed as a countess should, again in black but looking relaxed and elegant.

Marie-Claude's Brother Misses Dinner

"I hope you like your room, Mr. Kellner," she told him. "It is the favorite of my brother. Unfortunately, he will not be able to dine with us as he is in the town at a botanical society meeting. He left word that he will be at breakfast at 8 a.m. and hopes we will join him. He knows who you are and why you are here."

Bruce took in the trappings of the cozy dining room. It was painted grey and the walls were covered with paintings almost to the ceiling.

"This is where we eat most of our meals, "she said. "There is a larger, more formal dining room but that is for a larger group."

Bruce was impressed. Seated in the midst of early 18th-century artifacts made him feel comfortable. It was like dining in a manner he would like to be familiar with. Old things were a major part of Bruce's work.

(The tasteful dining room with 18th-century artifacts)

"In New York, I live in an ultra-modern apartment," he said. "This is far more sophisticated."

"Yes," the countess replied. "We try to keep it looking like the past. This room was a favorite of my father's. He died not long ago during the war."

"I'm sorry," Bruce stated. "I had no idea."

"He was shot by the Nazis," she said softly. "My father was hiding partisans in the Castle. When the Germans found out…" It was fortunate for us that they didn't blow up the building. Instead, they billeted officers here. They left the building in a sad state. Many of the villagers pitched in to put it back as it was."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said as he lifted his glass. "May I propose a toast to those departed?"

Marie-Claude Raises Her Glass...with Forced Smile

Marie-Claude raised her glass and forced a smile. They began to eat and Bruce asked, "Tell me about your brother."

"Yes, my brother," she started. "Constantin is a special man. He is gentle and wise. He is devoted to Botany, this Castle and to me. He has become the doting father I lost. As a matter of fact he is very much like my father. He is forty five years old, unmarried and served in the army as a Colonel. He entered Paris with General Leclerc and Charles De Gaulle at the war's end. He was decorated many times."

"And you?" asked Bruce. Were you here during the war?"

"Yes, for part of it. That is to say, I was in France but not here at Hautefort. I was in Marseilles studying art until 1943. Then I spent the rest of the war in Spain with a friend. I returned in 1945 when I discovered that my father had been killed: murdered. I was in a state of depression for months. It was Constantin who gave me hope."

"A good brother," Bruce suggested.

"Yes," she said, looking into his eyes. "The best."

They continued talking through dinner. Marie Claude was fascinated by Bruce's work. They talked about New York, the American Art collections and some of the work he had done.

"Forgery is not the main crime involving art. People make copies that do not look exactly like the originals but the average dealer and client have never seen the originals and are naïve enough and greedy enough to accept at face value the authenticity of a work by a known artist. Vincent Van Gogh is a classic example of paintings being sold without proof of originality. So too is Cezanne."

"And now Picasso," she interrupted.

Discussing the Picasso-Stein Fiasco

"Yes and no," Bruce explained. "There is a difference. In the case of the recent Picasso-Stein fiasco the copyist made two copies and then delivered then and sold the original. When a person receives two paintings done by the same hand, he or she assumes that one is just a good copy.

"There are ways to find out if something is authentic. There are tests of pigment, paper, brush stroke etc. We were lucky in this Picasso-Stein case. We had Picasso to authenticate his original. The painter always knows his work like a mother knows her child."

"That is not always true," the countess smiled. "I am reminded of a story my mother told me about the birth of my brother. In those days the mother had to stay in hospital for a long time. While there they taught my mother how to bathe the baby. There was a class and all the mothers took their baby's and began washing them. After a while my mother mused that her baby was the most perfect and beautiful child she had ever seen. He had skin like honey and skin like velvet. After a while of bliss she looked down at the baby's name bracelet. To her horror she discovered that she had the wrong baby."

Bruce smiled broadly. "You made your point. But the sketch you are missing has no history. The experts may not know it if it was here only.

It has never been photographed, to my knowledge. It will be hard to authenticate with no formal information, no provenance, about its origin. What did it look like?"

The countess thought. "It wasn't overly spectacular. It looked like the wings of a bat. They were meant to be strapped to a man. He showed that in the drawing. I remember very little of it. Like anything else when a picture hangs in the same place for many years one tends to ignore it; to take it for granted as part of the décor. My brother will know more about it, I'm sure."

Bruce was deep in thought. They walked out into the formal gardens and looked down at the lights below. They seemed to flicker as the wind glided through the age old trees.

(The formal gardens -- a spectacular sight to behold)

"That is a spectacular view," he suggested.

"Yes, but I've come to take that for granted too. The courtyard is Romanesque. I've lived here most of my life. I played here as a young girl, often."

"You are lucky," Bruce thought out loud. I'm a New Yorker. We had very little place to play where I lived in Manhattan. New York is a wonderful city but what you have here is a kind of paradise, especially with a garden and a four story castle to run around in. Why, there's even a moat!"

Deep Cellar Rooms

She smiled. "Yes. And there are deep cellar rooms below where one can get lost or fanaticizes. I remember only good times when I lived here. Then the war started and the Germans arrived. It was never the same."

(The red bedroom sitting area, with its striking canopy)

Bruce watched her talk. She had the elegance of upbringing, yet she had the relaxation and honesty of a small town girl. She made him relax as she talked. She reminded him of someone he once knew. After a while walking in the breeze, she drew her wrap around her arms.

"It is getting cool," she said. "Perhaps we should turn in."

Bruce lay in his gigantic bed and made some notes in a small memo book. He added a few questions for his meeting with Constantin. In a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

Click here for Chapter 5.


	Chapter 4 Later, Marie-Claude called ahead to tell the chef that there would be a guest for dinner. "Please prepare the Red salon for tonight." They continued until Brive then headed east. Soon, they turned north, and after a while, in the distance, Bruce saw the Chateau Hautefort for the first time. He was astonished. (Arnie Greenberg's drawing of Hautefort Castle, sitting like a royal jewel on a hillside) Bruce had seen many of the great chateaux of France that had been built for royalty. But he was not ready for what greeted him on his arrival at Hautefort. His first view was from the plain a few miles away. It stood at the end of a wooded spur majestically high above its feudal village, unlike the usual rough stone fortresses of the Perigord region complete with slated defense towers, a formal garden, moat and an imposing wall. It was floodlit, which made it look like it was floating in air now that darkness was engulfing the plain. It was enough to take your breath away, and as they approached, the structure took on an even more moving magnificence. (The drawbridge just above the moat) Bruce mused that the chateau had probably been remodeled over the years. Little Fanfare on Climbing the Stairs There was little fanfare when they climbed the stairs onto the main drawing room landing. There were three more floors above, and Bruce was shown to his room by a liveried valet. "Dinner will be in half an hour," the servant stated. He placed Bruce's bags on the desk and left. Bruce had seen chateau interiors before, but nothing matched this. It was done in Louis XV furnishings, all red and white. The room was dominated by 16-foot-high windows, an oak armoire and a double bed with a padded headboard. It was all lit by a crystal chandelier, and on each side of the bed there was a gold chair done with petit point tapestry. (The cavernous entrance to the castle) On the walls were portraits of ancestors dressed in military attire. The floor had thick area rugs that looked and felt new but were obviously not. This was a good example of gracious living on the grand and elegant style. The bathroom was immense with double sinks set into marble counters that were sparkling white. The plumbing was ultra-modern with gold taps and an abundance of hot water. Exactly half an hour later there was a knock at the door. "Dinner is ready, monsieur," a servant announced and showed Bruce to a small dining room. Marie-Claude was waiting, dressed as a countess should, again in black but looking relaxed and elegant. Marie-Claude's Brother Misses Dinner "I hope you like your room, Mr. Kellner," she told him. "It is the favorite of my brother. Unfortunately, he will not be able to dine with us as he is in the town at a botanical society meeting. He left word that he will be at breakfast at 8 a.m. and hopes we will join him. He knows who you are and why you are here." Bruce took in the trappings of the cozy dining room. It was painted grey and the walls were covered with paintings almost to the ceiling. "This is where we eat most of our meals, "she said. "There is a larger, more formal dining room but that is for a larger group." Bruce was impressed. Seated in the midst of early 18th-century artifacts made him feel comfortable. It was like dining in a manner he would like to be familiar with. Old things were a major part of Bruce's work. (The tasteful dining room with 18th-century artifacts) "In New York, I live in an ultra-modern apartment," he said. "This is far more sophisticated." "Yes," the countess replied. "We try to keep it looking like the past. This room was a favorite of my father's. He died not long ago during the war." "I'm sorry," Bruce stated. "I had no idea." "He was shot by the Nazis," she said softly. "My father was hiding partisans in the Castle. When the Germans found out…" It was fortunate for us that they didn't blow up the building. Instead, they billeted officers here. They left the building in a sad state. Many of the villagers pitched in to put it back as it was." "I'm sorry," Bruce said as he lifted his glass. "May I propose a toast to those departed?" Marie-Claude Raises Her Glass...with Forced Smile Marie-Claude raised her glass and forced a smile. They began to eat and Bruce asked, "Tell me about your brother." "Yes, my brother," she started. "Constantin is a special man. He is gentle and wise. He is devoted to Botany, this Castle and to me. He has become the doting father I lost. As a matter of fact he is very much like my father. He is forty five years old, unmarried and served in the army as a Colonel. He entered Paris with General Leclerc and Charles De Gaulle at the war's end. He was decorated many times." "And you?" asked Bruce. Were you here during the war?" "Yes, for part of it. That is to say, I was in France but not here at Hautefort. I was in Marseilles studying art until 1943. Then I spent the rest of the war in Spain with a friend. I returned in 1945 when I discovered that my father had been killed: murdered. I was in a state of depression for months. It was Constantin who gave me hope." "A good brother," Bruce suggested. "Yes," she said, looking into his eyes. "The best." They continued talking through dinner. Marie Claude was fascinated by Bruce's work. They talked about New York, the American Art collections and some of the work he had done. "Forgery is not the main crime involving art. People make copies that do not look exactly like the originals but the average dealer and client have never seen the originals and are naïve enough and greedy enough to accept at face value the authenticity of a work by a known artist. Vincent Van Gogh is a classic example of paintings being sold without proof of originality. So too is Cezanne." "And now Picasso," she interrupted. Discussing the Picasso-Stein Fiasco "Yes and no," Bruce explained. "There is a difference. In the case of the recent Picasso-Stein fiasco the copyist made two copies and then delivered then and sold the original. When a person receives two paintings done by the same hand, he or she assumes that one is just a good copy. "There are ways to find out if something is authentic. There are tests of pigment, paper, brush stroke etc. We were lucky in this Picasso-Stein case. We had Picasso to authenticate his original. The painter always knows his work like a mother knows her child." "That is not always true," the countess smiled. "I am reminded of a story my mother told me about the birth of my brother. In those days the mother had to stay in hospital for a long time. While there they taught my mother how to bathe the baby. There was a class and all the mothers took their baby's and began washing them. After a while my mother mused that her baby was the most perfect and beautiful child she had ever seen. He had skin like honey and skin like velvet. After a while of bliss she looked down at the baby's name bracelet. To her horror she discovered that she had the wrong baby." Bruce smiled broadly. "You made your point. But the sketch you are missing has no history. The experts may not know it if it was here only. It has never been photographed, to my knowledge. It will be hard to authenticate with no formal information, no provenance, about its origin. What did it look like?" The countess thought. "It wasn't overly spectacular. It looked like the wings of a bat. They were meant to be strapped to a man. He showed that in the drawing. I remember very little of it. Like anything else when a picture hangs in the same place for many years one tends to ignore it; to take it for granted as part of the décor. My brother will know more about it, I'm sure." Bruce was deep in thought. They walked out into the formal gardens and looked down at the lights below. They seemed to flicker as the wind glided through the age old trees. (The formal gardens -- a spectacular sight to behold) "That is a spectacular view," he suggested. "Yes, but I've come to take that for granted too. The courtyard is Romanesque. I've lived here most of my life. I played here as a young girl, often." "You are lucky," Bruce thought out loud. I'm a New Yorker. We had very little place to play where I lived in Manhattan. New York is a wonderful city but what you have here is a kind of paradise, especially with a garden and a four story castle to run around in. Why, there's even a moat!" Deep Cellar Rooms She smiled. "Yes. And there are deep cellar rooms below where one can get lost or fanaticizes. I remember only good times when I lived here. Then the war started and the Germans arrived. It was never the same." (The red bedroom sitting area, with its striking canopy) Bruce watched her talk. She had the elegance of upbringing, yet she had the relaxation and honesty of a small town girl. She made him relax as she talked. She reminded him of someone he once knew. After a while walking in the breeze, she drew her wrap around her arms. "It is getting cool," she said. "Perhaps we should turn in." Bruce lay in his gigantic bed and made some notes in a small memo book. He added a few questions for his meeting with Constantin. In a few minutes, he was fast asleep. Click here for Chapter 5.