The fine intoxication that follows good artistic work is the highest joy
that mortals ever know. But once let a creative artist lower his
standard and give the world the mere product of his brain, with heart
left out, that man will hate himself for a year and a day. He has sold
his soul for a price: joy has flown, and bitterness is his portion.
Meissonier never trifled with his compass. To the last he headed for the
polestar.

* * * * *

The early domestic affairs of Meissonier can best be guessed from his
oft-repeated assertion that the artist should never marry. "To produce
great work, Art must be your mistress," he said. "You must be married to
your work. A wife demands unswerving loyalty as her right, and a portion
of her husband's time she considers her own. This is proper with every
profession but that of Art. The artist must not be restrained, nor should
even a wife come between him and his Art. The artist must not be judged
by the same standards that are made for other men. Why? Simply because
when you begin to tether him you cramp his imagination and paralyze his
hand. The priest and artist must not marry, for it is too much to expect
any woman to follow them in their flight, and they have no moral right to
tie themselves to a woman and then ask her to stay behind."

From this and many similar passages in the "Conversations" it is clear
that Meissonier had no conception of the fact that a woman may possibly
keep step with her mate. He simply never considered such a thing.

A man's opinions concerning womankind are based upon the knowledge of the
women he knows best.