His Masterpiece

c which a commissionaire had just left downstairs. He understood at once. Christine had wished to be beforehand in celebrating the success of his painting. For this was a great day for him

was in

g on the table. Then, with his eyes still swollen with sleep, almost bewildered, he dressed, scolding himself the while for having slept so long. On the previous night he had promised Dubuche and Sandoz to cal

ng where to get the money for a proper frame, he had employed a joiner of the neighbourhood to fit four strips of board together, and had gilded them himself, with the assistance of his friend Christine, who, by the way, had proved a very unskilful gilder. At last, dressed and shod, and having his soft felt

sual to the doorkeeper. 'Madame Joseph,

it had for a while quite upset him with anxiety. Now, easy in mind again, Sandoz told Claude that Dubuche had written saying that they were not to wait for him, and giving an appointment at the Palais. They therefore started off, and as it was nearly eleven, they decided to

tnut trees showed new foliage of a delicate and seemingly freshly varnished green; and the fountains with their leaping sheafs of water, the well-kept lawns, the deep vistas of the pathways, and the broad open spaces, all lent an air of lux

lar, with a damp pavement which resounded beneath one's feet, like the flagstones of a church. He glanced right a

s cut through the garden. The western sta

he first floor, and the white statues alone edged the yellow-sanded pathways which with stretches of crude colour intersected the green lawns. There was a whole nation of motionless marble there steeped in the diffuse light falling from the glazed roof on high. Looking southwards, some holland screens barred half of the nave, which showed ambery in the sun

ed them at the very door. But as they hastened past a seemingly endless line of busts, they recognised Bongrand, who, all alone, was going slowly round a colossal, overflowing,

our friend Mahoudeau's figure, which they have at least had the intelligence to admit,

just come in,

of painters; the campaign conducted by petty newspapers like 'The Drummer'; the protestations, the constant complaints that had at last disturbed the Emperor, and the artistic coup d'etat carried out by that s

there. But they are all furious with the realists. It was to them that they systematically closed the doors of the temple; it is on account of them that the Emperor has allowed

ut his arms the while as if to embrace all the

are growing,' sa

f work amidst which he found himself-those pictures, those statues, all those proofs of creative effort-filled him with regret. It was not jealousy,

ed,"' asked Sandoz;

; you'l

own, 'You, my good fellow, you are a trump. Listen! they say I am clever: w

ars. Victory had come at last, then? He failed to find a word of thank

, 'why his figure's capital! He has a

walk round the plaster figure

at the articulations, they are delicate and really pretty. Come, good-bye, I

not struck him at first, careered through the air; it was like the din of a tempest beatin

at's that?'

walked away, 'that's the crow

g crossed the garden, then went

alleries the first impression was the same-there were the same gilt frames, the same bright colours on the canvases. But there was a special kind of cheerfulness, a sparkle of youth which one did not altogether realise at first. The crowd, already compact, increased every minute, for the official Salon

bow his way, 'it will be no easy job

m eager to get to it. That day he only li

e; 'we shall get to it all rig

d him, he distinguished some restrained laughter, which was almost drowned by the tramp of feet and the hubbub of conversation. Before certain pictures the public stood joking. This made him feel uneasy, f

gay here,'

remarked Sandoz. 'Just look

p against them without seeing them. He started, being no doubt annoyed by the me

ing of you. I have been

in front of that picture studying it and studying the impression which it produced on the public, answere

isposed to snap at everybody as of old, he pursed his lips into the serious expression of a fellow who wants to make his way in the world. With an air of conviction he added: 'I must say that I now

so people said, the work of an erstwhile veterinary surgeon, and showed a number of life-size horses in

mbug us,' exclaimed

f talent. The fellow who painted it understands horses devilish well. No doubt he pa

the slightest yellow twinkle of spitefulness in the depths of his grey eyes. And he finished with a sarcastic allusion, the drift of whic

y gave a glance round the walls, but the picture they sought was not there. In lieu thereof they perceived Irma Becot on the arm of Gagniere, both of them pr

surprised, 'here she

ung idiot of a marquis, whom the papers are always talking about. She's a girl who'll make her way; I've always said so! Bu

When Gagniere, with his light hair and little beardless face, turned round, looking

erful,' he

erful?' aske

and withal honest and nai

our might have painted; a little cottage at the edge of a little road, with a little tree beside it, the whole out of

sture, while Fagerolles

icate. But your picture,

ure, it

landscape of a pearly grey, a bit of the Seine banks, painted carefully, pretty in tone,

use that!' said Claude, who had approached wit

so sharp a voice that one could not tell wheth

ink that he had not even cared to see her again. She found him so much altered since the last time she had seen him, so funny, and not at all prepossessing, with his hair standing on end,

of your friends over

ound him. But all at once, when Claude was trying to attract his notice by dint of gesticulations, the other turned his back to bow very low to a party of three-the father short and fat, with a

caught now. What ugly acquaintances the brute

llionaire five or six times over, and was making his fortune out of the great public works of Paris, running up whole bo

scragginess of the girl, whom he kept

flayed kitten. One

their faces; they reek of scrofula and idiocy. It serves them right. But hallo! our runaway friend is maki

his arm to the mother, and was going off, explaining the

and, addressing Gagniere, he asked, 'Do you

oking for it-I a

g a woman about, that he had constantly lost her on the way, and was each time stupefied to find her again beside him, no longer knowing how or why they were t

ool elbowed the young lunatics of realism, the pure simpletons were lumped together with those who bragged about their originality. A dead Jezabel, that seemed to have rotted in the cellars of the School of Arts, was exhibited near a lady in white, the very curious conception of a future great artist*; then a huge shepherd looking at the sea, a weak production, faced a little painting of some Spaniards playing at rackets, a dash of light of splendid intensity. Nothing execrable was wanting, neither military scenes full of little leaden soldiers, nor wan antiquity, nor the middle ages, smeared, as it were

ard Ma

ir sides the better to ease themselves. It was the contagious hilarity of people who had come to amuse themselves, and who were growing gradually excited, bursting out at a mere trifle, diverted as much by the good things as by the bad. Folks laughed less before Chaine's Christ than before the back view of the nude woman, who seemed to them very comical indeed. The 'Lady in White' also stupefied people and drew them together; folks nudged each other and

his friends. 'One feels inclined to thro

, which only tended to increase the laughter, while Gagniere, at sea amid the hubbub, d

beamed. He cut his way through the crowd, gesticulated, and exulted, as

n looking for you this hour. A su

succ

ture. Come, I must show it yo

d to receive the news with composure. Bongrand's words came

continued Jory, shakin

s and Gagniere surrounded Irma, who

the picture is,' said Sandoz

hter that rose on the air, a swelling clamour, the roll of a tide near its full. And as he finally entered the room, he beheld a vast, swarming, closely

triumphantly, 'there'

self had been slapped, muttered: 'Too much of

on. 'That's what I call success. Does it matter a curse if they lau

that Sandoz could ga

lone remained gay, thinking it all very funny. And, with a caressing gesture, she leant against the shoulder of t

ed also; and whether it was the effect of the light in which it now hung, or the contrast of the works beside it, at all events he now at the first glance saw all its defects, after having remained blind to them, as it were, for months. With a few strokes of the brush he, in thought, altered the whole of it, deepened the distances, set a badly drawn limb right, and modified a tone. Decidedly, the gentleman in the velveteen jacket was worth nothing at all, he was altogether pasty a

Sandoz, and

plete. Never mind, the woman is all

young fellows went into contortions, as if somebody had been tickling them. One lady had flung herself on a seat, stifling and trying to regain breath with her handkerchief over her mouth. Rumours of this picture, which was so very, very funny, must have been spreading, for there was a rush from the four corners of the Salon, bands of people arrived, jostling each other, and all eagerness to share the fun. 'Where is it?' 'Over there.' 'Oh, what a joke!' And the witticisms fell thicker than elsewhere. It was especially the subject that caused m

of the work, in order to tell his daughter, read out the words, 'In the Open Air,' whereupon there came a formidable renewal of the clamour, hisses and shouts, and what not else besides. The title sped about; it was repeated, commented on. 'In the Open Air! ah, yes, the open air, the nude woman in the air, everything in the air, tra la la laire.' The affair was becoming

ill at ease, overtaken by cowardly shame, wished to quicken his pace and lead his party further on, pretending that he saw neither the canvas nor his fri

he blockhead th

merriment; and he, flattered by his success, and tickled by the strange style of the painting, started laughing in his turn, so

ispered pale-faced Madame M

as if it had been a question of saving the poor creature from imminent death. Then having taken leave of the Margaillans at the

that the public would not understand him. It's impr

th rage, and clenching his fists. 'They hissed Cou

s, grew angry at the recollection of his Sunday batt

the same crew. I recognise them. Y

undred thousand francs' worth of advertisements in it. And Irma, left to her own devices once more, went up to two of her friends, young Bourse men who

ent choice of subject, a milder method of execution. In the main, the influence that Claude had always had over him persisted in making itself felt; he remained imbued with it; it had set its stamp upon him for ever. Only he considered Claude to be an arch-idiot to have exhibited such a thing as that. Wasn't it stupid to believe in the intelligence of the public? What was the meaning of t

e was unable to hide it. In a moment

low, it's your own faul

assical conventionality. He was consoled and inspirited by it all; he felt no remorse nor contrition, but, on the contrary, was impelled to fight the popular taste still more. No doubt there was some clumsiness and some puerility of effort in his work, but on the other hand what a pretty general tone, what a play of light he had thrown into it, a silvery grey light, fine and diffuse, brightened by all the dancing sunbeams of the open air. It was as if a window had been suddenly opened amidst all the old bituminous cookery of art, amidst all the stewing sauces of tradition, and the sun came i

hts, my dear chap, and it looks as if I am going to rem

e band left the Salon of the Rejected, deciding that they would pass on their way through the gallery of architecture; for a design for a museum by Dubuche had be

entering the gallery, 'what an

here fell a soft, even, rather sad light, which was reflected like quiescent water by the well-waxed, mirror-like floor. On the four walls, of a faded red, hung the plans and designs in large and small chases, edged with pale blue bor

le museum gallery, which he had sent in with ambitious haste, contrary to custom and against the wishes of

dation of the paintings of the "open air

s head, but thinking of something else; while Cla

The ornamentation is still bastardly t

mpatient at last

, eh? I'm catching my

re was none of the gay scandal of their Salon, full of fresh tones and an exaggeration of sunlight, here. One after the other came gilt frames full of shadows; black pretentious things, nude figures showing yellowish in a cellar-like light, the frippery of so-called classical art, historical, genre and landscape painting, all showing the same conventional black grease. The works reeked of

ing down into the garden when they met Mahoudeau and

ur picture; what artist

began to praise th

have thrown a nice bi

aude's compassion. He thought there was something very sad about that execrable painting, and the wasted life of that peasant who was

Ah, my fine fellow, draughtsm

who had grown purple with van

ambouvard's 'Sower.' It was marvellous; the only piece of statuary worth looking at in the

middle of the central path: 'Chambouvard

ty masterpieces: statues all simplicity and life, flesh modern and palpitating, kneaded by a workman of genius, without any pretension to refinement; and all this was chance production, for he furnished work as a field bears harvest, good one day, bad the next, in absolute ignorance of what he created. He carried

hispered Claude. 'What a fi

y amused by the great man, and the string of young, ope

taking the sacrament, 'pon my word-and he h

g produced such a masterpiece. He seemed to behold it for the first time, and was unable to get over his astonishment. Then an expression of delight gradua

ed artists shaking hands; the one short and of a sanguine temperament, the other tall and restless. Some expressions of good-fellowship were overheard. 'Always fresh marvels.' 'Of course! And you, nothing this year?' 'No, nothing; I am resting, seeking-' 'Come, you joker! There's no need to seek, the thing comes by itself.' 'Good-bye.' 'Good-bye.' And Chambouvard, followe

m, with that broad-minded good-nature of his, the free and easy manner of an old Bohemia

id you see upstairs? You have

hey are giving it me nicely.

gue suffering and went off, saying, 'Hold

r had Irma Becot on his arm. Gagniere was stupefied; where the deuce could he have lost her? But when Fagerolles had told him that she had gone off in the

ingled with the throb of life pervading the vast nave. The sparrows had flown up to the forest of iron girders again, and one could hear their sharp little chirps, the twittering with which they serenaded the setting sun, under the warm panes of the glass roof. The atmosphere, moreover, had become heavy, there

t had been let loose and was howling in his ears. It was the merriment of the crowd whose

ke anything at the refreshment bar, it reeks of the Ins

fountains which spouted up and whirled away in golden dust. With a sauntering step they went hesitatingly down the central avenue, and finally stranded in a little cafe, the Pavillon de la Concorde, on the left, just before reaching the Place. The place was so small that they sat down outside it at the edge of the footway, despite the chill which fell from a vault of leaves, already fully grown and gloomy. But beyond the

, broken down as he was in body, and with his mind full of all the painting he had just seen. It was the usual winding up

grotesque canvases, and our Salon beats theirs. We have courage and audacity-we are the future. Yes, yes, you'll see it later on; we shall kill their Sa

ed out till they embraced even the Place de la Concorde, which could be seen slantwise from where they sat under the trees-the Place de la Concorde, with the plas

the "open air!" Eh! it was a thing strictly between us, it didn't exist yesterday beyond the circle of a few painters. But n

pped his

bite with those articles of mine, the idiots

the glowing sympathy of a hard worker, and Dubuche, giving way to the contagion of revolutionary friendship, became exasperated, and struck the table, swallowing up Paris with each draught of beer. Fagerolles, very calm, retained his usual smile. He had accompanied them for the sake of amusement, for the singular pleasure

e Bois in the pale golden shimmer of the sunset. And the exodus from the Salon must have been nearly over; a

, there was one who had his share in inventing landscape pa

o, and nothing more substantial has been turned out since. Wh

isn't dead,' s

ead! No one ever sees h

wn glory! To think that there were such melancholy instances of old artists disappearing before their death! Silence fell upon them all; they began to shiver when they perceived Bongrand pass by on a friend's arm, with a congestive face and a nervous a

d Mahoudeau to Chaine, who

ds in his beard, and went off after d

our neighbour, the herbalist woman. I saw his eyes flash all at once

his shoulders amidst

cture of the period they would soon be entering, a new period when they would find the ground freshly swept, ready for the rebuilding of everything. Down with the Greek temples! there was no reason why they should continue to exist under our sky, amid our society! down with the Gothic cathedrals, since faith in legend was dead! down with the delicate colonnades, the lace-like work of the Renaissance-that revival of the antique grafted on mediaevalism-precious art-jewellery, no doubt, but in which democracy cou

'that's what I want to accomplish, you'll see some day. Give me time

unched forth. He himself, having returned to the subject of his picture, again discussed it with a deal of gaiety, caricaturing the crowd he had seen looking at it, and imitating the imbecile laughter. Along the avenue, now of an ashy hue, one only saw the shadows of infrequent vehicles d

aude, in a last burst. 'Do you know, I wouldn't ta

ated in a sort of bewilderment, shaking hands in a tired fashion. Dubuche was going to dine out; Fagerolles had an appointment; in vain did Jory, Mahoudeau, and

for dinner. You'll take a bit with us. It w

walking side by side in fraternal fashion. But at

ing to leave me?'

you were going t

o bad a headache-I'm

ately clung t

. 'One doesn't see much of you nowadays. You live in my

face turned towards the ground, seeing nothing, but taking long strides like a somnambulist who is guided by instinct. On the Quai de Bourbon, in front of his door, he looked up, full o

called Madame Joseph from the ba

he asked in

, you know very well, th

utter confusion of mind, he decided to go upstairs. The k

no longer plainly distinguish either the floor, or the furniture, or the sketches; everything that was lying about seemed to be melting in the stagnant waters of a pool.

ds, and murmured in

a cab on leaving there, and I only wanted to stay a minute, and get back as soon as possib

they had hissed like that; it was on herself that they had spat. And seized with wild terror, distracted with grief and shame, she had fled, as if she could feel that laughter lashing her like a whip, until the bl

us of it all, that I found the picture very nice, and that I feel very prou

rnoon, all the bravery he had shown amidst the jeering, all his gaiety and violence now collapsed, in a fit of sobs which well nigh choked him. From the gallery where the laughter had buffeted him, he heard it pursuing him thr

how I d

sport of passion. She kissed him, and with her warm breath she b

sent him that morning embalmed the night air, and, alone shiny with lingering light, the scattered