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494 Pádurean 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 Romanian 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 editorial office, two clear Jewish profiles appear behind the managers. A tacit understanding 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 opinionforming 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 beginning 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 complement that partially dissolves the corporeal immobility we have encountered so far. The raised hand of the left Jew, simultaneously indicative and expository, pointing 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, representing 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, represented 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 further. The artist did not capture the internal set-up of the plot, discussed exclusively between Jews, but its outward development and its pernicious effect on the Romanian population. 10 Pagini literare, vol. II, no. 14 (39), 16 January 1900.
