Paris (France) -- History -- Commune, 1871 -- Fiction
"That would be just the thing," Cuthbert said, "if they can only get
some good officers. One likes the men one has to work with to be a
little of one's own class. Well, if the officers are all right you can
put my name down. I suppose there is no occasion for me to go myself."
"Of course there is occasion, lazy one. You have to be sworn in."
Cuthbert nodded. "I suppose we shan't have to give up work altogether?"
"I should think not," Rene said. "I suppose we shall have two or three
hours' drill in the morning and nothing more till the time for action
comes. Of course the troops and the mobiles will do the work at the
forts and walls, and we shall be only called out if the Prussians
venture to attack us, or if we march out to attack them."
"So much the better. I came here to work, and I want to stick to it and
not waste my time in parades and sentry duty. Well, we shall meet at the
studio in the morning and you can give us your news then."
Some fifteen young men met on the following morning at Goude's studio.
"Now, gentlemen," said the artist, a short man, with a large head, and
an abundant crop of yellow hair falling on to his shoulders, "please to
attend to business while you are here. Paint--you have plenty of time
outside to discuss affairs."
M. Goude was an artist of considerable talent, but of peppery temper. He
had at one time gone to war with the Hanging Committee of the Salon
because one of his paintings had been so badly hung that he declared it
to be nothing short of an insult, and had forthwith proceeded to publish
the most violent strictures upon them. The result was that on the
following year his pictures were not hung at all, whereupon, after
another onslaught upon them, he had declared his determination never
again to submit a picture to the judgment of men whose natural stupidity
was only equalled by their ignorance of art.
This vow he had for eight years adhered to, only occasionally painting a
picture and selling it privately, but devoting himself almost entirely
to the studio he had opened, when he ceased exhibiting. He was an
admirable teacher and his list of pupils was always full. He was an
exacting master and would take none but students who showed marked
ability. As a preliminary picture had to be presented to him for
examination, and at least three out of four of the canvases sufficed to
ensure their authors' prompt rejection.
It was, therefore, considered an honor to be one of Goude's pupils, but
it had its drawbacks. His criticisms were severe and bitter; and he fell
into violent passions when, as Leroux once observed, he looked like the
yellow dwarf in a rage. Cuthbert had heard of him from Terrier, who said
that Goude had the reputation of being by far the best master in Paris.
He had presented himself to him as soon as he arrived there; his
reception had not been favorable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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