Three days after the gathering28 at the Titian Sketching-Club, Mr. Potts sat in his studio, smoking a pipe, and glaring vacantly at a picture on an easel in front of him. It was not a comfortable room; its owner's warmest friend could not have asserted that. There was no carpet, and the floor was begrimed with the dirt of ages, and with spilt tobacco and trodden-in cigar-ash. The big window was half stopped-up, and had no curtain. An old oak-cabinet against the wall, surmounted29 by the inevitable30 plaster torso, and studies of hands and arms, had lost one of its supporting feet, and looked as though momentarily about to topple forward. A table in the middle of the room was crowded with litter, amongst which a pewter-pot reared itself conspicuously31. Over an old sofa were thrown a big rough Inverness-cape, a wideawake hat, and a thick stick; while on a broken, ragged32, but theatrically-tawdry arm-chair, by the easel, were a big palette already "set," a colour-box, and a sheaf of brushes. Mr. Potts was dressed in a shepherd's-plaid shooting coat, adorned33 here and there with dabs34 of paint, and with semi-burnt brown patches, the result of the incautious dropping of incandescent35 tobacco and vesuvians. He had on a pair of loose rough trousers, red-morocco slippers36 without heels, and he wore no neckcloth; but his big turned-down shirt-collar was open at the throat. He wore no beard, but had a large sweeping37 Austrian moustache, which curled fiercely at the ends; had thin brown hair, light blue eyes, and the freshest and healthiest of complexions38. No amount of late hours, of drinking and smoking, could apparently40 have any effect on this baby-skin; and under the influence of cold water and yellow soap, both of which he used in large quantities, he seemed destined41 to remain--so far as his complexion39 was concerned--"beautiful for ever,"--or at least until long after Madame Rachel's clients had seen the worthlessness of pigments42. Looking at him as he sat there--his back bent43 nearly double, his eyes fixed44 on his picture, his pipe fixed stiffly between his teeth, and his big bony hands clasped in front of him--there was no mistaking him for anything but a gentleman; ill-dressed, slatternly, if you like; but a true gentleman, every inch of him.
The "trotter" outside being tugged45 with tremendous violence, roused him from his reverie, and he got up and opened the door, saying, as he did so, "Why didn't you ring? I would, if I'd been you. You're in the bell-hanging line, I should think, by the way you jerked my wire. Hollo, Bowker, my boy! is it you? What's the matter? Are you chivied by a dun on the staircase, or fainting for a pull at the pewter, that you come with such a ring as that? Bring your body in, old man; there's a wind here enough to shave you."
Mr. Bowker preceded his friend into the room, looked into the pewter-pot, drained it, wiped his beard with a handkerchief; which he took out of his hat, and said, in a solemn deep voice: "Potts, my pipkin, how goes it?"
"Pretty well, old man, pretty well--considering the weather. And you?"
"Your William _se porte bien_. Hallo!" glancing at the easel, while he took a pipe from his pocket and filled it from a jar on the table; "hallo! something new! What's the subject? Who is the Spanish party in tights? and what's the venerable buffer46 in the clerical get-up of the period putting out his hand about?"
"Oh, it's a scene from _Gil Blas_, where the Archbishop of Grenada discharges him, you know."
"No, I don't, and I don't want to hear; your William, dear boy, has discovered that life is too short to have anything explained to him: if he don't see it at first, he let's it pass. The young party's right leg is out of drawing, my chick; just give your William a bit of chalk. There--not being a patient at the Orthopaedic Hospital--that's where his foot would come to. The crimson48 of the reverend gent's gown is about as bad as anything Ive seen for a long time, dear boy. Hand over the palette and brushes for two minutes. Your William is a rum old skittle; but if there's one thing he knows about, it is colour." And Charley, who knew that, with all his eccentricity49, Mr. Bowker, or "your William," as he always spoke50 of himself; was a thorough master of his art, handed him what he required, and sat by watching him.
A fat bald-headed man with a grizzled beard, a large paunch and flat splay feet, badly dressed and not too clean, Mr. Bowker did not give one the idea of ever having been an "object of interest" to any one save the waiter at the tavern51 where he dined, or the tobacconist where he bought his Cavendish. But yet there had been a day when bright eyes grew brighter at his approach, tiny ears latticed with chestnut-hair had eagerly drunk in the music of his voice, gentle hands had thrilled beneath his touch. He had bright blue eyes himself then, and long hair, and a slim figure. He was young Mr. Bowker, whose first pictures exhibited at Somerset House had made such a sensation, and who was so much noticed by Sir David Wilkie, and for whom Mr. Northcote prophesied52 such a future, and whom Mr. Fuseli called a "coot prave poy!" He was the young Mr. Bowker who was recommended by Sir Thomas Lawrence as drawing-master to the lovely young wife of old Mr. Van Den4 Bosch, the Dutch banker and financier long resident in London. He was "that scoundrel Bowker, sir," who, being wildly romantic, fell head-over-ears in love with his pupil; and finding that she was cruelly ill-treated by the old ruffian her husband, ran away with her to Spain, and by that rash act smashed-up his career and finally settled himself for ever. Old Van Den Bosch got a divorce, and died, leaving all his money to his nephews; and then William Bowker and the woman he had eloped with returned to England, to find himself universally shunned53 and condemned54. His art was as good, nay55 a thousand times better than ever; but they would not hear of him at the Royal Academy now; would not receive his pictures; would not allow the mention of his name. Patrons turned their backs on him, debts accumulated, the woman for whom he had sacrificed everything died,--penitent so far as she herself was concerned, but adoring her lover to the last, and calling down blessings56 on him with her latest breath. And then William Bowker strove no more, but accepted his position and sunk into what he was, a kindly57, jolly, graceless vagabond, doing no harm, but very little good. He had a little private money on which he lived; and as time progressed, some of his patrons, who found he painted splendidly and cheaply, came back to him and gave him commissions; but he never again attempted to regain58 his status; and so long as he had enough to supply his simple daily wants, seemed content. He was a great favourite with some half-dozen young men of Charley Potts's set, who had a real love and regard for him, and was never so happy as when helping59 them with advice and manual assistance.
Charley watched him at his work, and saw with delight the archbishop's robe gradually growing all a-glow beneath the master's touch; and then, to keep him in good-humour and amused, began to talk, telling him a score of anecdotes60, and finally asking him if he'd heard anything of Tommy Smalt.
"Tommy Smalt, sir?" cried Bowker, in his cheery voice; "Tommy Smalt, sir, is in clover! Your William has been able to put Tommy on to a revenue of at least thirty shillings a-week. Tommy is now the right-hand man of Jacobs of Newman Street; and the best judges say that there are no Ostades, Jan Steens, or Gerard Dows like Tommy's."
"What do you mean?--copies?"
"Copies! no, sir: originals."
"Originals!"
"Certainly! original Tenierses, of boors61 drinking; Wouvermanns, not forgetting the white horse; or Jan Steens, with the never-failing episode;--all carefully painted by Tommy Smalt and his fellow-labourers! Ah, Jacobs is a wonderful man! There never was such a fellow; he sticks at nothing; and when he finds a man who can do his particular work, he keeps him in constant employment."
"Well, but is the imposition never detected? Don't the pictures look new?"
"Oh, most verdant62 of youths, of course not! The painting is clobbered63 with liquorice-water; and the varnish64 is so prepared that it cracks at once; and the signature in the corner is always authentic65; and there's a genuine look of cloudy vacancy66 and hopeless bankruptcy67 about the whole that stamps it at once to the connoisseur68 as the real thing. Tommy's doing a 'Youth's Head' by Rembrandt now, which ought to get him higher pay; it ought indeed. It's for a Manchester man. They're very hot about Rembrandts at Manchester."
"Well, you've put me up to a new wrinkle. And Jacobs lives by this?"
"Lives by it! ay, and lives like a prince too. Mrs. J. to fetch him every day in an open barouche, and coachman and footman in skyblue livery, and all the little J.'s hanging over the carriage-doors, rendering69 Newman Street dark with the shadow of their noses. Lives by it! ay, and why not? There will always be fools in the world, thank Heaven!--or how should you and I get on, Charley, my boy?--and so long as people will spend money on what they know nothing about, for the sake of cutting-out their friends, gaining a spurious reputation for taste, or cutting a swell70 as 'patrons of the fine-arts,'--patrons indeed! that word nearly chokes me!--it's quite right that they should be pillaged71 and done. No man can love art in the same manner that he can love pancakes. He must know something about it, and have some appreciation72 of it. Now no man with the smallest knowledge would go to Jacobs; and so I say that the lords and railway-men and cotton-men who go there simply as a piece of duff--to buy pictures as they would carpets--are deuced well served out. There! your William has not talked so much as that in one breath for many a long day. The pewter's empty. Send for some more beer, and let's have a damp; my throat's as dry as a lime-burner's wig73."
Charley Potts took up the pewter-measure, and going on to the landing outside the door, threw open the staircase-window, and gave a shrill74 whistle. This twice repeated had some effect! for a very much-be-ribboned young lady in the bar of the opposite public-house looked up, and nodded with great complaisance75; and then Charley, having made a solemn bow, waved the empty quart-pot three times round his head. Two minutes afterwards a bare-headed youth, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, crossed the road, carefully bearing a pasteboard hat-box, with which he entered the house, and which he delivered into Mr. Potts' hands.
"Good boy, Richard I never forget the hat-box; come for it this evening, and take back both the empty pewters in it.--It would never do, Bowker, my boy, to have beer--vulgar beer, sir--in its native pewter come into a respectable house like this. The pious76 parties, who buy their rattletraps and properties of old Lectern down below, would be scandalised; and poor little Mossoo woman Stetti would lose her swell connection. So Caroline and I--that's Caroline in the bar, with the puce-coloured ribbons--arranged this little dodge77; and it answers first-rate."
"Ha--a!" said Mr. Bowker, putting down the tankard half-empty, and drawing a long breath; "beer is to your William what what's-his-name is to thingummy; which, being interpreted, means that he can't get on without it. I never take a big pull at a pewter without thinking of our Geoff. How is our Geoff?"
"Our Geoff is--hush78! some one coming up stairs. What's to-day? Friday. The day I told the tailor to call. Hush!"
The footsteps came creaking up the stairs until they stopped outside Charley Potts' door, on which three peculiar79 blows were struck,--one very loud, then two in rapid succession.
"A friend!" said Charley, going to the door and opening it. "Pass, friend, and give the countersign80! Hallo, Flexor! is it you? I forgot our appointment for this morning. Come in."
It was, indeed, the great model, who, fresh-shaved, and with his hair neatly81 poodled under his curly-brimmed hat, entered the room with a swagger, which, when he perceived a stranger, he allowed to subside82 into an elaborate bow.
"Now then, Flexor, get to work! we won't mind my friend here; he knows all this sort of game of old," said Charley; while Flexor began to arrange himself into the position of the expelled secretary of the archbishop.
"Ay, and I know M. Flexor of old, that's another thing!" said Bowker, with a deep chuckle83, expelling a huge puff84 of smoke.
"Do you, sir?" said Flexor, still rigid85 in the Gil-Bias position, and never turning his head; "maybe, sir; many gents knows Flexor."
"Yes; but many gents didn't know Flexor five-and-twenty years ago, when he stood for Mercutio discoursing86 of Queen Mab."
"Lor' a mussy!" cried Flexor, forgetting all about his duty, parting the smoke with his hand and bending down to look into William's face. "It's Mr. Bowker, and I ought to have knowed him by the voice. And how are you, sir? hearty you look, though you'yve got a paucity87 of nobthatch, and what ''ir you 'ave is that gray, you might be your own grandfather. Why, I haven't seen you since you was gold-medallist at the 'cademy, 'cept once when you come with Mrs.----"
"There, that'll do, Flexor! I'm alive still, you see; and so I see are you. And your wife, is she alive?"
"O yes, sir; but, Lord, how different from what you know'd her! None of your Wenuses, nor Dalilys, nor Nell Gwyns now! she's growed stout and cumbersome88, and never sits 'cept some gent wants a Mrs. Primrose89 in that everlastin' Wicar, or a old woman a-scoldin' a gal90 because she wants to marry a poor cove47, or somethin' in that line; and then I says, 'Well, Jane, you may as well earn a shillin' an hour as any one else,' I says."
"And you've been a model all these years, Flexor?"
"Well, no sir--off and on; but Ive always come back to it. I was a actor for three years; did Grecian stators,--Ajax defyin' the lightnin'; Slave a-listenin' to conspirators91; Boy a-sharpenin' his knife, and that game, you know, in a cirkiss. But I didn't like it; they're a low lot, them actors, with no feelin' for art. And then Iwas a gentleman's servant; but that wouldn't do; they do dam' and cuss their servants so, the gentlemen do, as I couldn't stand it; and I was a mute."
"A mute!--what, a funeral mute?"
"Yes, sir; black-job business; and wery good that is,--plenty of pleasant comp'ny and agreeable talk, and nice rides in the summer time on the 'earses to all the pleasant simmetries in the suburbs! But in the winter it's frightful92! and my last job I was nearly killed. We had a job at 'Ampstead, in the debth of snow; and it was frightful cold on the top of the 'Eath. It was the party's good lady as was going to be interred93, and the party himself were frightful near; in fact, a reg'lar screw. Well, me and my mate had been standin' outside the 'ouse-door with the banners in our 'ands for an hour, until we was so froze we could scarcely hold the banners. So I says, I won't stand no longer, I says; and I gev a soft rap, and told the servant we must have a drop of somethin' short, or we should be killed with cold. The servant goes and tells her master, and what do you think he says? 'Drink!' he says. 'Nonsense!' he says; '_if they're cold, let 'em jump about and warm 'emselves_,' he says. Fancy a couple of mutes with their banners in their 'ands a-jumpin' about outside the door just before the party was brought out. So that disgusted me, and I gev it up, and come back to the old game agen."
"Now, Flexor," said Charley, "if you've finished your biography, get back again."
"All right, sir!" and again Flexor became rigid, as the student of Santillane.
"What were we talking of when Flexor arrived? O, I remember; I was asking you about Geoff Ludlow. What of him?"
"Well, sir, Geoff Ludlow has made a thundering _coup_ at last. The other night at the Titians he sold a picture to Stompff for two hundred pounds; more than that, Stompff promised him no end of commissions."
"That's first-rate! Your William pledges him!" and Mr. Bowker finished the stout.
"He'll want all he can make, gentlemen," said Flexor, who, seeing the pewter emptied, became cynical94; "he'll want all he can make, if he goes on as he's doin' now."
"What do you mean?" asked Bowker.
"He's in love, Mr. Ludlow is; that's wot I mean. That party--you know, Mr. Potts--as you brought to our place that night--he's been to see her every day, he has; and my missis says, from what she 'ave seen and 'eard--well, that's neither 'ere nor there," said Flexor, checking himself abruptly95 as he remembered that the keyhole was the place whence Mrs. Flexor's information had been derived96.
Charley Potts gave a loud whistle, and said, "The devil!" then turning to Bowker, he was about to tell the story of the wet night's adventure, but William putting up his finger warningly, grunted97 out "_Nachher!_" and Charley, who understood German, ceased his chatter98 and went on with his painting.
When the sitting was over, and Flexor had departed, William Bowker returned to the subject, saying, "Now, Charley, tell your William all about this story of Geoff and his adventure."
Charley Potts narrated99 it circumstantially, Bowker sitting grimly by and puffing100 his pipe the while. When he had finished, Bowker never spoke for full five minutes; but his brow was knit, and his teeth clenched101 round his pipe. At length he said, "This is a bad business, so far as I see; a devilish bad business! If the girl were in Geoff's own station or if he were younger, it wouldn't so much matter; but Geoff must be forty now, and at that age a man's deuced hard to turn from any thing he gets into his head. Well, we must wait and see. I'd rather it were you, Charley, by a mile; one might have some chance then. But you never think of any thing of that sort, eh?"
What made Charley Potts colour as he said, "Welt--not in Geoff's line, at all events?"
William Bowker noticed the flush, and said ruefully, "Ah, I see! Always the way! Now let's go and get some beef or something to eat: I'm hungry."
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1
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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gambolled
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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broths
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| n.肉汤( broth的名词复数 )；厨师多了烧坏汤；人多手杂反坏事；人多添乱 | |
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revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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sketched
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inscription
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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slippers
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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pigments
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| n.（粉状）颜料( pigment的名词复数 )；天然色素 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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50
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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51
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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52
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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55
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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56
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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boors
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| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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clobbered
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| v.狠揍， （不停）猛打( clobber的过去式和过去分词 )；彻底击败 | |
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64
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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pillaged
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| v.抢劫，掠夺( pillage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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complaisance
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| n.彬彬有礼，殷勤，柔顺 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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countersign
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| v.副署，会签 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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84
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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paucity
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| n.小量，缺乏 | |
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cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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99
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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