For a long time Marcel had not allowed himself to be discouraged by the emphatic12 refusal which greeted him at each exposition. He was comfortably settled in his opinion that his picture was, in a modest way, the companion piece long awaited by the “Wedding of Cana,” that gigantic masterpiece whose dazzling splendor13 the dust of three centuries has not dimmed. Accordingly, each year, at the time of the Salon, Marcel sent his picture to be examined by the jury. Only, in order to throw the examiners off the track and if possible to make them abandon the policy of exclusion14 which they seemed to have adopted toward the “Passage of the Red Sea,” Marcel, without in any way disturbing the general scheme of his picture, modified certain details and changed its title.
For instance, on one occasion it arrived before the jury under the name of the “Passage of the Rubicon!” but Pharaoh, poorly disguised under Caesar’s mantle15, was recognized and repulsed16 with all the honors that were his due.
The following year, Marcel spread over the level plane of his picture a layer of white representing snow, planted a pine-tree in one corner, and clothing an Egyptian as a grenadier of the Imperial Guard, rechristened the painting the “Passage of the Beresina.”
The jury, which on that very day had polished its spectacles on the lining17 of its illustrious coat, was not in any way taken in by this new ruse18. It recognized perfectly19 well the persistent20 painting, above all by a big brute21 of a horse of many colors, which was rearing out of one of the waves of the Red Sea. The coat of that horse had served Marcel for all his experiments in color, and in private conversation he called it his synoptic table of fine tones, because he had reproduced, in their play of light and shade, all possible combinations of color. But once again, insensible to this detail, the jury seemed scarcely able to find blackballs enough to emphasize their refusal of the “Passage of the Beresina.”
“Very well,” said Marcel; “no more than I expected. Next year I shall send it back under the title of ‘Passage des Panoramas22.’”
“That will be one on them—on them—on them, them, them,” sang the musician, Schaunard, fitting the words to a new air he had been composing—a terrible air, noisy as a gamut23 of thunderclaps, and the accompaniment to which was a terror to every piano in the neighborhood.
“How could they refuse that picture without having every drop of the vermilion in my Red Sea rise up in their faces and cover them with shame?” murmured Marcel, as he gazed at the painting. “When one thinks that it contains a good hundred crowns’ worth of paint, and a million of genius, not to speak of the fair days of my youth, fast growing bald as my hat! But they shall never have the last word; until my dying breath I shall keep on sending them my painting. I want to have it engraved24 upon their memory.”
“That is certainly the surest way of ever getting it engraved,” said Gustave Colline, in a plaintive25 voice, adding to himself: “That was a good one, that was—really a good one; I must get that off the next time I am asked out.”
Marcel continued his imprecations, which Schaunard continued to set to music.
“Oh, they won’t accept me,” said Marcel. “Ah! the government pays them, boards them, gives them the Cross, solely26 for the one purpose of refusing me once a year, on the 1st of March. I see their idea clearly now—I see it perfectly clearly; they are trying to drive me to break my brushes. They hope, perhaps, by refusing my Red Sea, to make me throw myself out of the window in despair. But they know very little of the human heart if they expect to catch me with such a clumsy trick. I shall no longer wait for the time of the annual Salon. Beginning with to-day, my work becomes the canvas of Damocles, eternally suspended over their existence. From now on, I am going to send it once a week to each one of them, at their homes, in the bosom27 of their families, in the full heart of their private life. It shall trouble their domestic joy, it shall make them think that their wine is sour, their dinner burned, their wives bad-tempered28. They will very soon become insane, and will have to be put in strait-jackets when they go to the Institute, on the days when there are meetings. That idea pleases me.”
A few days later, when Marcel had already forgotten his terrible plans for vengeance29 upon his persecutors, he received a visit from Father Medicis. For that was the name by which the brotherhood30 called a certain Jew, whose real name was Soloman, and who at that time was well known throughout the bohemia of art and literature, with which he constantly had dealings. Father Medicis dealt in all sorts of bric-à-brac. He sold complete house-furnishings for from twelve francs up to a thousand crowns. He would buy anything, and knew how to sell it again at a profit. His shop, situated31 in the Place du Carrousel, was a fairy spot where one could find everything that one might wish. All the products of nature, all the creations of art, all that comes forth from the bowels32 of the earth or from the genius of man, Medicis found it profitable to trade in. His dealings included everything, absolutely everything that exists; he even put a price upon the Ideal. Medicis would even buy ideas, to use himself or to sell again. Known to all writers and artists, intimate friend of the palette, familiar spirit of the writing-desk, he was the Asmodeus of the arts. He would sell you cigars in exchange for the plot of a dime33 novel, slippers34 for a sonnet35, a fresh catch of fish for a paradox36; he would talk at so much an hour with newspaper reporters whose duty was to record the lively capers37 of the smart set. He would get you passes to the parliament buildings, or invitations to private parties; he gave lodgings38 by the night, the week, or the month to homeless artists, who paid him by making copies of old masters in the Louvre. The greenroom had no secrets for him; he could place your plays for you with some manager; he could obtain for you all sorts of favors. He carried in his head a copy of the almanac of twenty-five thousand addresses, and knew the residence, the name, and the secrets of all the celebrities39, even the obscure ones.
In entering the abode40 of the bohemians, with that knowing air which characterized him, the Jew divined that he had arrived at a propitious41 moment. As a matter of fact, the four friends were at that moment gathered in council, and under the domination of a ferocious42 appetite were discussing the grave question of bread and meat. It was Sunday, the last day of the month. Fatal day, sinister43 of date!
The entrance of Medicis was accordingly greeted with a joyous44 chorus, for they knew that the Jew was too avaricious45 of his time to waste it in mere46 visits of civility; accordingly his presence always announced that he was open to a bargain.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the Jew; “how are you?”
“Colline,” said Rodolphe from where he lay upon the bed, sunk in the delights of maintaining a horizontal line, “practise the duties of hospitality and offer our guest a chair; a guest is sacred. I salute47 you, Abraham,” added the poet.
Colline drew forward a chair which had about as much elasticity48 as a piece of bronze and offered it to the Jew, Medicis let himself fall into the chair, and started to complain of its hardness, when he remembered that he himself had once traded it off to Colline in exchange for a profession of faith which he afterward49 sold to a deputy. As he sat down the pockets of the Jew gave forth a silvery sound, and this melodious50 symphony threw the four bohemians into a reverie that was full of sweetness.
“Now,” said Rodolphe, in a low tone, to Marcel, “let us hear the song. The accompaniment sounds all right.”
“Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis. “I have simply come to make your fortune. That is to say, I have come to offer you a superb opportunity to enter into the world of art. Art, as you very well know, Monsieur Marcel, is an arid51 road, in which glory is the oasis52.”
“Father Medicis,” said Marcel, who was on coals of impatience53, “in the name of fifty per cent, your revered54 patron saint, be brief.”
“Here is the offer,” rejoined Medicis. “A wealthy amateur, who is collecting a picture-gallery destined55 to make the tour of Europe, has commissioned me to procure56 for him a series of remarkable57 works. I have come to give you a chance to be included in this collection. In one word, I have come to purchase your ‘Passage of the Red Sea.’”
“Money down?” asked Marcel.
“Money down,” answered the Jew, sounding forth the full orchestra of his pockets.
“Go on, Medicis,” said Marcel, pointing to his painting. “I wish to leave to you the honor of fixing for yourself the price of that work of art which is priceless.”
The Jew laid Upon the table fifty crowns in bright new silver.
“Keep them going,” said Marcel; “that is a good beginning.”
“Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis, “you know very well that my first word is always my last word. I shall add nothing more. But think; fifty crowns; that makes one hundred and fifty francs. That is quite a sum.”
“A paltry58 sum,” answered the artist; “just in the robe of my Pharaoh there is fifty crowns’ worth of cobalt. Pay me at least something for my work.”
“Hear my last word,” replied Medicis. “I will not add a penny more; but, I offer dinner for the crowd, wines included, and after dessert I will pay in gold.”
“Do I hear any one object?” howled Colline, striking three blows of his fist upon the table. “It is a bargain.”
“Come on,” said Marcel. “I agree.”
“I will send for the picture to-morrow,” said the Jew. “Come, gentlemen, let us start. Your places are all set.”
The four friends descended59 the stairs, singing the chorus from “The Huguenots,” “to the table, to the table.”
Medicis treated the bohemians in a fashion altogether sumptuous60. He offered them a lot of things which up to now had remained for them a mystery. Dating from this dinner, lobster61 ceased to be a myth to Schaunard, and he acquired a passion for that amphibian62 which was destined to increase to the verge63 of delirium64.
The four friends went forth from this splendid feast as intoxicated65 as on a day of vintage. Their inebriety66 came near bearing deplorable fruits for Marcel, because as he passed the shop of his tailor, at two o’clock in the morning, he absolutely insisted upon awakening67 his creditor68 in order to give him, on account, the one hundred and fifty francs that he had just received. But a gleam of reason still awake in the brain of Colline held back the artist from the brink69 of this precipice70.
A week after this festivity Marcel learned in what gallery his picture had found a place. Passing along the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, he stopped in the midst of a crowd that seemed to be staring at a sign newly placed above a shop. This sign was none other than Marcel’s painting, which had been sold by Medicis to a dealer71 in provisions. Only the “Passage of the Red Sea” had once again undergone a modification72 and bore a new title. A steamboat had been added to it, and it was now called “In the Port of Marseilles.” A flattering ovation73 arose among the crowd when they discovered the picture. And Marcel turned away delighted with this triumph, and murmured softly: “The voice of the people is the voice of God!”
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1
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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ostracism
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| n.放逐；排斥 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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10
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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12
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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13
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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14
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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15
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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17
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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20
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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panoramas
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| 全景画( panorama的名词复数 )； 全景照片； 一连串景象或事 | |
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23
gamut
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| n.全音阶，(一领域的)全部知识 | |
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24
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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25
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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30
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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capers
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| n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 )；刺山柑v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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41
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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42
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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47
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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48
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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49
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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50
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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51
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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52
oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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53
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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54
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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56
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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57
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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58
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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59
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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60
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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61
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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amphibian
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| n.两栖动物；水陆两用飞机和车辆 | |
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63
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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64
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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66
inebriety
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| n.醉，陶醉 | |
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67
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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68
creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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69
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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70
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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71
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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72
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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