第17部分(第2/7 页)
tell
him about the hidden logic of red within the picture; I was going to elucidate
the things my wife and I had laughingly discussed while admiring the piece;
such as how I’d lovingly colored—something the old masters never did—the
dog resting off to the side in precisely the same hue as the Sultan’s caftan of
atlas silk; but he asked me a very rude; discourteous question:
Would I; perchance; have any idea where unfortunate Elegant Effendi might
be?
What did he mean “unfortunate”! I didn’t say that Elegant Effendi was a
worthless plagiarist; a fool who did his gilding for money alone with nary a
hint of inspiration。 “Nay;” I said; “I do not know。”
Had I ever considered that the aggressive and fanatical followers of the
preacher from Erzurum might’ve done Elegant Effendi harm?
I maintained my posure and refrained from responding that Elegant
Effendi himself was no doubt one of their lot。 “Nay;” I said。 “Why?”
The poverty; plague; immorality and scandal we are slave to in this city of
Istanbul can only be attributed to our having distanced ourselves from the
Islam of the time of Our Prophet; Apostle of God; to adopting new and vile
customs and to allowing Frankish; European sensibilities to flourish in our
midst。 This is all that the Preacher Erzurumi is saying; but his enemies attempt
to persuade the Sultan otherwise by claiming that the Erzurumis are attacking
dervish lodges where music is played; and that they’re defacing the tombs of
saints。 They know I don’t share their animosity toward His Excellency
Erzurumi; so they’re makin
本章未完,点击下一页继续。