if we admit it, remains elusive. In the next case, the plot becomes more seeming,
even though the dialogue is even less explicit.
In a cartoon published in 1900," Nicolae Petrescu-Gáiná, a renowned Ro¬
manian caricaturist, portrayed the editorial office of Adevárul, one of the most
important newspapers in Romanian history (ill. 221). A left-wing publication,
Adevárul was often accused by the right-wing journalists of being Jewish. Wedded
to the same outlook, in Petrescus vision, the newspapers managers have sidelocks
and a yarmulke. Moreover, for pointing out the conspirative profile of the edito¬
rial office, two clear Jewish profiles appear behind the managers. A tacit under¬
standing dwells between the two Jews. The one on the left has his head turned to
his companion, whereas the other one, although fully facing the viewer, watches
the former out of the corner of his eye. The two are a metaphor of the plot. Their
unclear interest allows now a plausible total interest; masked behind an opinion¬
forming journal, their undermining can be political, economical, and religious.
Still, such intrigues are not practiced only in backstage cabals, but also in
street-corner arrangements. The conspiracy loses intensity, but gains plausibility
and justifiability. In Costin Petrescu’s Two Jews, a water painting from the begin¬
ning of the twentieth century, we discover the same furtive eye glance as before
and also a magnified satisfaction in the facial expressions (ill. 219). This time, both
characters are manifestly talkative, and their speech benefits of a gestural comple¬
ment that partially dissolves the corporeal immobility we have encountered so far.
The raised hand of the left Jew, simultaneously indicative and expository, point¬
ing subtly at a piece of clothing suspended by the other hand, supports the viewer
in suspecting them of a shoddy trickery (probably a buy cheap—sell dear, clothes
exchange), a plot far from being nationally pernicious but in which the characters
invested all their cunningness and viciousness.
Almost at the same time, Octav Bancila exhibited at Jassy, A Good Deal, repre¬
senting two local Jews in an intimate conversation (ill. 220). This time, the subject
of discussion is more clearly underlined, the title of the painting pointing out that
we are witnessing a personal financial business. The painting generated a series of
journalistic debates; a very interesting position was offered by a Moldavian Jewish
newspaper, which offered several articles discussing the trueness of the scene and
the artist’s intentions. One of the magazine’s reviewers pointed out: “The painting,
realized with plenty of artistic skillfulness and plenty of liveliness in coloring, rep¬
resented two familiar characters—two Jewish common figures, arranged, in some
degree, in a suggestive position. One of the Jews—dressed in the shabby costume
of the jobless workman—whispered to the other a hopeful secret, judging from the
joy that radiates from the lighted face of the other. Both faces, characteristic, cor¬