It was an oil painting of no small size. As people approached and clearly saw the title and content of the artwork, they couldn't help but let out soft gasps of astonishment.
The scene it depicted was almost identical to the illustration by Gustave Doré that had caused a sensation in Paris just a few days prior!
It was the same luxurious drawing-room, the same man and woman confronting each other in the lightning.
However, Gauguin's treatment was completely different from Doré's! Doré pursued a frozen, dramatic instant, whereas in Gauguin's brushwork, everything was filled with intense subjective color and immense emotional power.
Firstly, the colors in this painting were boldly simplified and intensified.
Deep blue, purplish-black, and ochre tones formed the oppressive backdrop of the room, while the lightning outside the window was no longer the relatively realistic cool white light of Doré's depiction—it was a bright yellow so blinding it was almost a violent sulfurous color, slashing across the canvas with a savage stroke, not only illuminating the figures but also scorching their souls.
The man's face was distorted under the strong light, as if he were wearing a mask; exaggerated blocks of color and rough lines expressed fear and anger to the extreme.
The woman's pain seemed to merge into the dark background; only a pair of eyes and slightly parted lips were visible, suggesting a silent scream.
The blurry figures in the shadows in Doré's work were rendered by Gauguin as more abstract blocks of color and shapes, resembling mere phantoms rather than real people.
The entire painting no longer relied on traditional perspective and subtle gradation, but used strong color contrast and unrestrained brushwork to create intense dramatic tension.
It was no longer merely depicting a theatrical scene; it itself became a "thunderstorm"—an emotional tempest, a bombardment of fate, a struggle of souls... all frozen onto the canvas.
A senior critic stood before the painting, unable to tear his eyes away for a long time:
"My God... this... this is Thunderstorm! This is the power painting should possess!"
A young art student excitedly gestured to his companion:
"Look at the colors! Look at the light! Doré's painting tells us what happened; Gauguin's painting makes us feel what is happening!"
A lady pointed to her chest:
"I have never seen painting done like this... It doesn't 'look like' it, but it strikes deeper than any finely detailed picture! It hits here!"
"Gauguin? Is that the Gauguin who used to work at the Stock Exchange? When did he develop such talent?"
Praise flooded in like a tide.
People crowded in front of Gauguin's Thunderstorm, trying to savor every brushstroke and feel the emotional impact washing over them.
The painting quickly became the absolute centerpiece of the entire exhibition, its fame even overshadowing Degas's controversial sculpture.
The exhibition organizers had to implement temporary measures, limiting the time each visitor could spend in front of Thunderstorm to ensure crowd flow.
Even so, long lines formed at the entrance to the hall; many people came specifically to catch a glimpse of Gauguin's Thunderstorm.
News spread like wings, flying from Rue des Capucines to every corner of Paris.
———————
In the office of the Director of the Comédie-Française, Émile Perrin had a copy of Gil Blas in front of him, with an exceptionally eye-catching headline on the art page:
[Masterpiece Discovered at the Impressionist Exhibition! Paul Gauguin Shocks Paris with Thunderstorm!]
[Beyond the Limitations of Illustration: A Painting That Conveys the Soul of the Drama]
The article was full of effusive praise, celebrating how Gauguin's painting captured and sublimated the essence of Lionel's new play, Thunderstorm, through its unique artistic language.
It claimed the work demonstrated an "artistic power more real than reality itself."
Émile Perrin put down the paper and remained silent for a long time.
He finally looked up at Lionel, who was sitting opposite him, casually flipping through a magazine.
Émile Perrin's lips moved, tinged with frustration and helplessness:
"This isn't fair..."
He spread his hands like a child who had lost a favorite toy:
"Lionel, this is truly unfair."
Lionel closed the magazine and smiled slightly:
"There is no absolute fairness in art, Émile. Mr. Doré's work completed its mission; it attracted a large amount of attention; Gauguin's work, however, will make everyone curious. Parisian audiences are the most discerning in all of Europe; they know quality, and they are willing to give the highest praise to the art that moves them!"
Émile Perrin knew Lionel was right.
Neither of them lacked artistic taste or aesthetic judgment, so there was nothing to argue about.
Gustave Doré's painting was still a "publicity poster," albeit one of superb technical skill, worthy of being called a piece of art; whereas Paul Gauguin had created a masterpiece representing the most avant-garde artistic concept in Paris!
He sighed and counted out 100 francs from his wallet, handing the bills to Lionel with a pained expression.
Lionel took the money, grinning broadly:
"There you go, Émile. You're probably already overjoyed in your heart, aren't you?"
Only then could Émile Perrin not hold back, and he burst out laughing with Lionel.
A single painting causing such a stir was having a positive effect on the box office for Thunderstorm worth far more than just 100 francs.
Lionel waved the banknotes in his hand:
"Today, I'm treating you to lunch at 'La Tour d'Argent,' let's invite the entire cast of Thunderstorm!"
The sensation caused by Paul Gauguin's Thunderstorm at the Impressionist Exhibition did not subside when the exhibition closed.
The impassioned praise in Gil Blas caught the attention of many collectors and art patrons who usually scoffed at "Impressionism."
Not to mention the long-time patrons of the Impressionists.
Georges Charpentier had always been a significant supporter of Impressionist painters; Renoir was the resident painter for his family.
He personally approached Paul Gauguin and offered a sum that was astronomical for an Impressionist painter: 1,500 francs.
Georges Charpentier took a puff of his cigar:
"Paul, this is a fair transaction. It's enough for you to create without worrying about bread for over half a year."
Paul Gauguin's heart pounded violently—1,500 francs!
Only Monet and Renoir could command that price among the Impressionists now.
This was even more than the total selling price of all his previous works combined, making him almost blurt out his acceptance immediately.
But the instinct of a stockbroker made him shake his head:
"Mr. Charpentier, I still need to consider it..."
The news quickly spread.
The first to react was Madame Eleanor de Rothschild.
Her interest in Lionel's Thunderstorm had extended to this painting that could "interpret the soul of the drama" for her.
More importantly, she could not tolerate a work closely connected to Lionel being easily acquired by a "mere publisher."
She sent her butler to convey a message to both Charpentier and Gauguin, casually raising the price to 2,000 francs.
The butler's tone was calm:
"Madame Rothschild believes that the value of this painting should not be underestimated."
Georges Charpentier backed down.
Although he appreciated art, he valued business cost-effectiveness more; competing financially with the Rothschild family was foolish.
However, this small bidding war had already attracted the sharp-smelling sharks of the art circle.
(End of Chapter)