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In this episode, we delve into a captivating tale of art, deception, and irony inspired by Mark Twain's classic story, "Is He Living or Is He Dead?" Our host, EG Marshall, sets the stage by contrasting the comedic and tragic views of life as seen by Balzac and Mark Twain. We explore the struggles of artists like Francois Millet, who, along with his companions, concocts a daring scheme to gain fame and fortune by faking his own death. This episode is a fascinating exploration of how society often values artists only after their demise, and the lengths to which one might go to subvert this tragic norm.
As the story unfolds, we witness the humorous and poignant efforts of Millet and his friends to manipulate public perception and the art market. With the help of a notorious Parisian salon owner, they aim to elevate Millet's work to greatness posthumously, while he secretly lives on. This episode not only entertains with its clever plot and rich characters but also offers a satirical commentary on the art world's fickle nature and the societal tendency to overlook living talent. Join us for a thought-provoking journey through art, irony, and the human condition.
(00:48) Introduction to the Human Comedy
(01:50) The Mystery Drama Begins
(02:56) The Struggles of Creative Men
(06:28) A Secret Revealed
(12:04) The Plan to Sell Millet's Art
(17:08) The Scheme Unfolds
(24:05) Executing the Plan
(30:18) The Francois Millet Caper
(36:09) The Death Watch
(42:12) The Final Act and Conclusion
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[00:00:02]
Unknown:
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Hardie. Come in.
[00:00:49] Unknown:
Welcome. I'm EG Marshall. The great French writer Balzac called life the human comedy. Our own Mark Twain saw it as a human tragedy. What's in a name? There are great many laughs in a true tragedy and plenty of tears in a genuine comedy. Mark Twain's long suit was irony, and now we have an opportunity to see how he plays that kind of hand in one of the greatest stories
[00:01:19] Unknown:
of deception ever written. And there's no doubt about it. You can be wealthy. Oh, I like that. Famous. Famous too. Absolutely. And powerful. Wealthy? Famous? Powerful. A force in the world of art. It sounds wonderful. That's what you're giving me. And, in return, what do I have to give you? Your life.
[00:01:50] Unknown:
Our mystery drama, Is He Living or Is He Dead? Was adapted from the Mark Twain classic especially for the mystery theater by Sam Dann and stars Alexander Scorby. It is unfortunate but true that a great many creative men are killed by poverty. As a matter of fact, the circumstance has been so universal that it has even been made romantic. How many stories, operas, plays, are about artists who starve in garrets van Gogh Schubert Mozart Rembrandt Poe to name but a tiny few all died of neglect must it be ever thus Mark Twain is about to present another perspective
[00:02:57] Unknown:
I was spending the month of March 1892 at Montaub on the Riviera fully enjoying the flooding sunshine, the balmy air, and the brilliant blue sea without the morning additions of human fuss and display, which one encounters a few miles away at Nice and Monte Carlo. As a rule, the rich do not come here, but now now and then, the rich man does show up. And I got acquainted with one, partially to disguise him as we call him Smith. One morning, we were having breakfast at the Hotel des Anglais when he exclaimed Quick. Cast your eye, Batman.
Which man? The one just going out the door. Yes? Do you know who he is? Why are you so excited, mister? Oh, no. Do you? Do you? Well, I I I think so. He spent several days here just before you arrived. You know anything about him? Someone said he's he's an old retired and very rich silk manufacturer from Lyon or was in Lille. Well, what else do you know about him? Well, I don't know anything about him except, Except what? Well, I I would assume he must be all alone in the world. Oh, why? Why? But he looks so so sad and and dreamy, and he doesn't talk with anyone.
Would you know his name? Yes. It's Theophile Manon. Well? Well, what? Well, what are you going to tell me? Tell you? About the old gentleman. Oh. Smith, taking you by and large? You're quite a character. Here, the mere sight of a person sent you into a perfect fit. One might have thought the man was Jack the Ripper the way you seem to take on about him. And now you you simply cannot say, oh, and just haul down the flag. Smith? Smith, are you awake? Shh. I'm trying to think. About what? It's one of Hans Andersen's beautiful little stories. How did he get into the discussion? I remember only one part of it.
Do you remember the old man who just left? Seems a child has a caged bird, which it loves, but thoughtlessly neglects. And the bird pours out its sweet song unheard and unheeded. You follow this? Well, yes. In time, hunger and thirst assail the poor bird. Its song grows feeble and plaintive, and finally ceases. And the bird dies. Well, the child comes by and you know what happens, don't you? Well, I would say the child sees the poor dead bird and is smitten to the heart with remorse. And then with bitter tears, the child calls his mates and they bury the bird with elaborate pomp and the tenderest grief. Oh, and you have read the story. Oh, it's an old story. The children don't know that they're only aping their elders, who also starve poets to death, and then spend enough on their funerals and monuments to have kept them alive and made them easy and comfortable. Yeah. Yeah. And now how about the old gentleman?
Dwayne, can you keep a secret? No better than you. You look like a man who is bursting to break one. Well, it's been a secret for many years between me and two others, but I'm going to break the seal now. You know, a long time ago, I was a young artist. You? Mhmm. You, Smith, were an artist? And I wandered around the French countryside just sketching, you know. Were you successful? Oh, bless you now. I I was starving. Well, how did you live? A typically American question. Why not? I'm a typical American. The answer is I pawned my way across France. One by one, I sold all my belongings till I was reduced to the clothes on my back. Even they started to go one by one.
Finally, almost naked and down and out, I found myself on a in a small, Breton village. And there I was taken in and literally saved by a fellow artist named Francois Millet. Who? Francois Millet. With a great Francois Millet? Oh, great. He wasn't any greater than I was. He hadn't any fame at all, even in his own village. Oh, the great Francois Millet. Let me tell you about the great Francois Millet. He made me welcome. What a generous, great hearted fellow he was. I'll never forget that first day. Smith. Smith. Our all Englishmen named Smith.
Sometimes it seems that way. Now where can you sleep? I'll sleep anywhere. There are no soft places on the floor, so one is as good as another. Now for dinner. I I feel badly. I I can see there isn't very much, monsieur Millet. You cannot call a French painter monsieur till he's received the legion of honor. And I have a better chance of being struck by lightning. You must call me Francois. Now dinner. All we have are turnips. Unless, of course, Karl can scare up something. Karl? Karl Boulanger. He's also a painter, and he lives here too. Speak of the devil.
How shall we prepare the turnips tonight, Francois? That tells me everything. Well, how about turnips remoulade? No. We have no egg yolks. I have it, Carl, sauteed with mushrooms. Yeah. We have no butter. I don't trust your judgment when it comes to picking wild mushrooms. Well, then I suppose we'll have to boil them as usual. Who is this? Oh, Smith. An Englishman. Smith, this madcap is Karl Boulogne. I do. He doesn't look like an Englishman. All Englishmen are supposed to be rich. Smith is a painter. Poor devil. Why didn't you arrange to be born in France, and then you would have learned to starve properly. I can starve as decently as any Frenchman. What's that? What?
That canvas against the wall. I just noticed it. You know that? I call it the Angelus. It isn't too bad, Desmond. I've never seen anything like it. It's a masterpiece. There's a a feeling of oneness with God. Karl, I, I have a confession to make. Do you suppose, sir? I was offered CHF5 for it. When? Last week. Yes. A week ago, Thursday. And what happened? I turned it down. You turned it down. Francois, CHF5 means a dozen eggs upon the border. I know. I know. But you see, the man appeared anxious Yes. And so I asked for CHF8. And? He said he would think about it and let me know. Oh, the kiss of death. Why didn't you take the CHF5? You mean you would have Francois sell the Angelus for CHF5? Right now, I would sell it for a pork chop.
Sauteed with onions. Oh. Without the chopped vinaigrette, southern nicoise, and a very dry Bordeaux. Carl, when will you learn that the proper wine for pork is a light burgundy? I must educate your palate. You have scorned. What a fantastic pun. Don't you get it, Smith? No. I The English, the English as a rule, Karl, are rather slow in these matters of humor. Francois was also my painting de turn. You see, he has educated both my palette and my palette. You still don't get? Oh, yeah. Yeah. Yes. It is. It's rather fine. No. No. No. No. You're right. It is a rather feeble jest. But you see it passes the time, and then we forget how hungry we are. And how tired and disappointed and disillusioned.
Come, Carl. One cannot have everything. Look at what we have in this room. Behold these canvases. A feast for the eye, a feast for the mind, a feast for the soul. And not even a crumb for the stomach. Be of good cheer, Carl. Perhaps tomorrow, something will turn up. I caught you. Another one. You get it, Smith? What will turn up tomorrow will be another turnip for dinner as usual. Oh, yes. Yes. Well, now, gentlemen, the situation is quite serious. We are on the verge of starvation. As usual. And we must come up with a solution. I agree. What do you suggest, Francois?
I don't know. How about you, Smith? Nothing occurs to me either. Well, then let's sleep on it. Which we did, after having had, of course, a boiled turnip for dinner. The next morning, I was starved, but that was nothing unusual. I decided to take the bull by the horns. I looked at Millais' paintings. How could anyone in his right mind not jump at the chance to buy them? Accordingly, I placed a few under my arm, the Angelus, Man with a Hoe, the woodcutter and death, and I began to knock on doors. Practically every door was slammed in my face. Only one elderly woman deigned to talk to me at all. What are you selling?
I see. That's painting nonsense. Oh, but, madame, I I assure you. And have you joined the other two, the scoundrels and ne'er do well? Madame, if you please It's good for nothing lady Trump who refused to work for any Madame, painting is one of the most difficult of all occupations. Painting a house, maybe. Madam, I am here to help you to get rich. Ah. You must admit that there are paintings which are worth millions. Yes? Now admit it. Well Here is your golden opportunity. A few pennies invested today will bring fabulous dividends tomorrow. How do I know? Because these are the paintings of the great Francois Millet.
The great Francois Millet. Yes, madam. These paintings will increase a hundredfold, a thousandfold in value because Francois Millet is a genius. He is? There's no doubt about it. Who said so? She slammed the door in my face. And at that moment, a great light exploded in my brain. Who says so? I raced home. I couldn't wait to share this flash of sudden insight with my companions. Hunger creates great divisions, Francois. Continues me. She and everyone else in this town, they don't make up their own minds. They don't decide things for themselves. Oh, but that's how people are everywhere. And so she looks at you, Francois, and at me and at Karl. How is she to know that the paintings have mattered? It should be obvious. Of course. The colors, the figures, whites all over the canvas. But, unfortunately, no one has told her that as yet. What do you mean no one? I've been trying to sell these paintings for months, years.
I patiently try to explain it. But who are you? Who am I? I'm Karl Boulanger, a painter. No. You're Karl Boulanger, a shiftless, good for nothing, who would prefer to beg for his bread sooner than work for it. Who has perpetrated this infamous fortune? And so am I, and so is Francois. What he says is true, Karl. And yet yet if someone in authority were to say, Francois Millet, truly a great master. Why, overnight, Francois would be the toast of the town. Yes. Authority. That's what the people look for. No one wants to make up his own mind. Francois, we shall have an authority to authenticate your greatness. An authority? Of course.
A great Parisian authority. I know professor Louis de Coupe. Who? He's the most respected professor of art at the university. No. No. No. He won't do, Francois. But he's the most learned. We don't want learned people. We want famous people. Oh. Ah, I have it. Madame Lucerne, Chevron's the most talked about Salon in Paris. You mean the most notorious And if she says a painting is great, it'll be hailed as a masterpiece. But does she know anything at all about painting? Probably not. But then Well, the question is, who should go? You are the smoothest talker, Tom.
No. I nominate Smith to be our own boy. Me? Why? Because you're the handsomest. Oh, but what does that have to do with the Do you recall the legend of the Golden Fleece? Oh, yeah. The legendary band of ancient great heroes who went after it? Whom did they choose as their leader? Not Hercules, the strongest, or Ulysses, the wisest, but Jason, the handsomest. Because they knew it would be necessary to seduce a woman in order to win the prize. Oh, but I I I no. Look. You may not have to go that far. And what if he does? We must all make sacrifices for art.
[00:16:29] Unknown:
Yes. And some of us must make heavier sacrifices than others. But as you can see, there's more to becoming a famous artist than merely painting a great or even a good picture. Sometimes one must play the game of love and even the game of death. However, all that is the affair of the second act, which I shall bring you in just a few moments. We may all have to revise some of our ideas about art before our story is over. At any rate, we're back in the year 1892, and Mark Twain is chatting with a wealthy elderly Englishman in a hotel on the sun washed shores of the French Riviera.
[00:17:25] Unknown:
Now, Smith, what are you telling me? That some twenty five or thirty years ago, you and the painter Francois Millet and Karl Boulanger. Yes. And yourself were starving artists in a provincial French town? Exactly. And did you concocted some mad scheme to get Millais recognized? Ah, but you haven't heard the scheme yet. You see, if you're a creative artist, people don't know you're good unless somebody who speaks with authority says so. You get no argument from me on that scores, mate. Well, they had the idea to send me to the salon of Madame Lucerne in Paris. She was a former mistress of King Louis Napoleon himself.
Which made her an eminent critic, connoisseur, and authority on the island. Exactly. Well, how did you propose to gain admission to Madame Salon? You were, after all, a ragged man or woman. I did the only thing any sensible man would do under the circumstances. I broke into a bedroom. Who who who is that? Don't be alarmed, madame. I I'm not a burglar. You are not a burglar. And and please don't pull on that bell cord.
[00:18:43] Unknown:
Allow me to give you two reasons why you are a burglar. First, you break into my Oh, but, madame Second, under your arm, I see some paintings,
[00:18:52] Unknown:
which you have obviously stolen from my house. No, madame. I haven't come here to steal paintings, but to present you with some. Presenting? Yes, madame. Because you are the supreme and sublime authority on art. Ah. Look at these, madame. Isn't each a masterpiece?
[00:19:09] Unknown:
Frightly, monsieur. I wouldn't have the faintest idea. Now what is this game you wish to play with me? Oh, game? All men have one game or another in mind where I am concerned. And since you are not half bad looking.
[00:19:27] Unknown:
It is for a friend. Ah. The man is a genius. One word from you.
[00:19:33] Unknown:
One word from me. How simple you make it all sound. But it is simple for you.
[00:19:38] Unknown:
You've turned unknown men into great writers, composers overnight. Oh, it's not a simple matter. And it doesn't happen overnight. The man must have something. Francois Millet has everything. He's a genius. The woods are filled with genius. Oh, but surely, I mean, just look at these paintings. Now
[00:19:58] Unknown:
I could make a great painter out of you.
[00:20:02] Unknown:
Me?
[00:20:03] Unknown:
You are the love bandit. Of what? You break into the boudoirs of famous ladies and you leave behind a painting as a memento of the adventure. These you have here are excellent for the purpose. Shall we begin?
[00:20:21] Unknown:
Oh, but, no. No. These paintings are not mine. Who is to know the difference? The work of Francois Millet. Must we discuss that tiresome name? You see how each painting bears his hallmark, his unique style?
[00:20:34] Unknown:
These things are lost on me. I know nothing of art. Oh, isn't there anything you could do to help me, Larry? Sit beside me, and we can talk more comfortably.
[00:20:46] Unknown:
Yes. Yes. No. No. Surely, there there's something you could do for him.
[00:20:51] Unknown:
Why? Well, because one day, he would be a glory to France. Oh, monsieur, you're an Englishman. Yes. Why should you worry about the
[00:21:01] Unknown:
glory of France? Well, the the glory of the world.
[00:21:04] Unknown:
Oh, well, I think we must decently dispose of Millais. There's only one way I could hope to help him. Oh, how? He would have to be dead. Dead? I'm sorry, but that's the way it goes with geniuses. Now where were we?
[00:21:33] Unknown:
They're dead. The woman is crazy. Gentlemen, the woman is right. But Smith, it's a matter of history. She convinced me. You mean France wise to die? That is rather extreme. An artist has to be starved and dead before he's acknowledged. It happens so often, we could write a law that says the prices that the public will pay for a man's pictures will only climb after he dies. But what good does it do the dead artist if others make money on his pictures? Death lends grandeur to a man. Death makes his name illustrious. Why? I don't know, gentlemen. I don't know. There's no way out, Francois.
You simply have to die. Now look here. No. No. Let us hear him out first, Carl. Now take, several weeks. Better, several months to die. Uh-huh. And in the meantime, paint. Paint day and night. Enlarge your stock of paintings. Leave behind a ton of work, and Carl and I will make a fortune. A fortune? On the works of the late great Francois Millet. Oh, I'll have no part of this. Wait. What Smith says is not devoid of merit. Francois. Look at us. How we live. How far are we from death? How much longer can we starve like this? Freeze. To without? In a few years, we will be young no longer, and we'll be dead in any event. This way This way is madness.
I won't let you die to make me rich for a swaddler. No. But but listen. And that would be enough out of you too, Smith. You didn't let me finish. I said Carl and I would make a fortune selling your paintings, Francois, which we would then split three ways. Three ways? Yes, Carl. Three ways. You and I and Francois. Francois? What did you think I meant for Francois to actually die? What you say? No. No. No. Why should Francois die? He'll just vanish and change his name. And we'll bury a dummy and cry over it and Smith, you are the greatest scoundrel who ever lived. Thank you. What a magnificent plan.
What do you say, Francois? Well, would it be proper to play this kind of trick on the world? On the other hand, since the world will have it no other way We need work. We'll put it to the test. How? Carl, you and I will go out and do some painting. You head north and I'll go south. Choose a villa or a a business establishment of some sort. Make sure the owner notices you. You'll come over out of curiosity, and the rest will be easy. So I chose a large country house and set up my easel and began to sketch. I saw the proprietor standing on an upper veranda. I paid no attention to him. I knew that sooner or later, he'd saunter over.
Hey. That's not bad. Not bad at all. Yes. Yes. Yes. I think I think you captured that, pretty well. Hey. You're good. You're good. You know that. Well, thank you, monsieur. Well, I ought to be good. Look who taught me. No. No. Let let me see if I have one of his works with me. Oh, here here we are. My satchel. I suppose you recognize that signature down the right there. I I beg your pardon. He was my teacher. Oh. You mean you don't know the signature of Francois Millais? What have you been spending your life? It's Millais. Francois Millais. Oh, oh, of course. Of course.
What could I have been thinking about? Of course, Millet. I recognize that now. Millet, the greatest painter in France. Yes. Millet. This this little sketch is, a genuine Mille. How can you fail to see the brushstroke? Of course. Of course. Is it for sale? For sale? I may not be rich, but I'm not that poor. You know, I, really would like to buy. Well, I I I don't have a genuine mind. No. I'd I'd like to sell it to you, Bill, because I can see you really do appreciate great art. I do. But, well, there there there's a practical consideration. I I I I'd be a fool to sell it now. Why?
Why? You mean you don't know? No. He lays on his deathbed. The doctors say he can't live three months. Oh. And once he dies, his pictures can't be had for love of money. Sure. I, I'll give you CHF800 for that little sketch of his. Oh, you really do love it, don't you? It's a genuine millet. Oh, I am a fool. Alright. Take it. CHF800, Dwayne. And Mireille would have sold it for a bottle of wine. You know, two years ago, I'd sold it at auction for 80,000. It's a mad world. Well, when I came home, Carl was dancing for George.
[00:26:40] Unknown:
A thousand francs. Yeah. I sold Francoise's picture of the little girl and her mother for CHF1,000.
[00:26:49] Unknown:
Well, your thousand francs sell Carla Smith 800. What a feast we can make this evening. This evening, Francois, you'll have to get six. Six? Oh, I never felt better in my life. Tonight, you will take to your bed with the illness that will finally kill you. Alright. Alright. After dinner. You'll have to look pale one week for all the distinguished visitors. He'll flock here in droves. Why? Well, because they'll want to see you die. He's right, Francois. No one would walk across the street to see an artist who's alive, but they'd travel the length and breadth of Europe to see one dead. Well, you may as well prepare yourself, Francois. You're about to become an institution, and this place is going to be a shrine. Oh,
[00:27:36] Unknown:
you wish to see me?
[00:27:39] Unknown:
I see Madame Leo Cabotcony.
[00:27:41] Unknown:
Which one are you? Oh, mister Smith. I'm sorry to intrude. Oh, well, I I am just listening to mister Schumann here. He's a composer. Oh, excuse us, please, for just a moment, mister Schumann. Well, now, mister Smith. How have you been? Where have you been keeping yourself? I wonder, madame, if you remember your promise. Oh, I never forget the promise. To help my friend. Your friend? Yes. Francois Millet. Millet. Millet. Oh, yes. Yes. I recall now. But, mister Smith, I also remember telling you there was only one way I could help him. He would have to be dead. Yes.
[00:28:24] Unknown:
Well, madame, he's getting there. Oh, mister Smith. We are all getting there. I know. But, he should arrive there in less than a month. What are you saying? Madame, he's on his deathbed. Oh, this is tragic. Here, sit by me. Now,
[00:28:45] Unknown:
what is he dying of?
[00:28:48] Unknown:
I believe a broken heart. A broken heart. Wonderful. Yes. His heart has been broken because the world has failed to recognize his genius. Oh, this year, Michelinie,
[00:29:00] Unknown:
he's on his deathbed actually? Actually. Oh, what a cooperative gentleman. Oh, he certainly deserves to become famous. I brought you some of his paintings. Oh, yes. I see. I see. Oh, the unmistakable stamp of genius. His name shall become a household word.
[00:29:31] Unknown:
Is that how it's done? Well, it's a way. But is it all that simple?
[00:29:37] Unknown:
No.
[00:29:39] Unknown:
Not really. We'll encounter a few problems. After all, Francois Millet has to die in a convincing manner and in front of witnesses. Well, that's why we have third acts, isn't it? I shall return in a few moments. Today, our entertainments are dominated by something known as the caper. This is usually an elaborate scheme to swindle something from somebody. Money from a bank, secrets from aspiring, anything anywhere anytime like most art forms this one is hardly new we're listening to one right now it was inspired by a short story by Mark Twain, and if the word had existed in Twain's day, he might very well have named this piece
[00:30:52] Unknown:
the Francois Miele Caper. I don't understand at all, Smith. Why did you need this, Madame Lucerne? After all, you proved you could make money by using Millais' name. Both you and Karl had already sold his pictures. Yes. That that was good enough for the provinces, Dwayne. But we wanted more than just a little local reputation. We required fame. And for that, you needed Paris. And no creative artist has ever conquered Paris without the help of a woman. Meanwhile, we were having our problems. Millet didn't mind starving when we didn't have a sous, But now that there was some money But if I don't eat, I'll die. Well, that's the idea, Francois. But since I'm not to die, actually, what difference should it make? But people come to see you. You can't look healthy and robust on your deathbed. Smith is right. The reporter from that English journal yesterday did give you several suspicious looks. Meanwhile, I'm not painting. You can't have everything. And at mealtimes, I can't have anything. Well, your jokes are becoming feeble at any rate. I have an idea. Why don't we say I'm too ill to see anyone? In that way, I can eat like an elephant. You'll get away as much as an elephant too. We won't be able to get you into your coffin.
Who's getting into a coffin? Well, you'll you'll have to be carried out of here when the time comes. That is something no one has explained to me. How and when do I die? And how and when am I to be buried? All the details have not yet been worked out. Suddenly, Twain, we were invaded. Everyone wanted to see the great Francois Millais. Karl and I almost wore ourselves out guarding the door. No. I'm sorry, mister. The master is too ill to receive anyone. Yes. Yes. Of course. Of course. We will convey your regards. Meanwhile, Millet was painting away, piling up stock, as we called it.
And Madame Lucerne was selling them discreetly, of course, in Paris. The great sale was the Angelus for CHF2,200. Little did we know that the day was coming when France would struggle to own it, and a stranger would come along and capture it for a half million cash. And meanwhile, we were having problems with Millais, or I should say with his appetite. Then I I don't understand it, Carl. He gets fatter every day. Well, fatter and healthier looking. This won't do. Carl Karl, do you allow him to sneak in some food on the sly? How can you accuse me? Well, how can he gain weight on tea and toast? Well, especially tea without sugar and toast without butter. Oh, wait. Wait. Wait. Inside. Listen. Inside his room. Do you hear what I hear?
Well, I'm not sure. That has to be the sound of a spoon against a bowl. He's eating. But how? Oh, why didn't we think of it? Somebody's smuggling food into him from the outside. But who? That has to be the answer, sneaking food into his room through the window. You sit here. I'll steal around to the back of the house. What are you doing, dear? Oh, I Who? It's madame Mauffigneur. Well, I I I have Explain yourself, madame. Well, sir,
[00:34:09] Unknown:
Francois Millet is a genius, a great genius. He is? Who says so? Why, everyone says so. It's a known fact. And when I heard he was dying, I thought perhaps that what do the doctors know? The poor man probably needs a decent meal. Well, no one is allowed into the house, and so I asked yet. Well well, we can't have any more of this. Why not? Because of
[00:34:32] Unknown:
because the doctor says food will kill him. Should it matter? He's dying anyway.
[00:34:38] Unknown:
And you should see how happy he is with my soup and the roast fowl and the figs. Madam, he is not a goose to be stuffed for parfait. You needn't yell at me. I was only doing my Christianity. Want him to die in comfort. And I want him to die happy. Poor fellow, he starved most of his life. Must he go hungry to his grave? But he's very ill. He looks fine to me, fat and rosy. Perhaps my cooking can save his life. Or do you want him to die?
[00:35:15] Unknown:
Or why would I want him to die? Well, there's nothing to be done. She could prove a great embarrassment. So we let her deliver the food every day, and, of course, Carl and I were forced to eat it. Meanwhile, the house was besieged. People came from everywhere for the death watch. It was unbelievable. Read what it says here in the prize paper. The lamp flickers for Francois Millais. Great painter. Said to be in his last hours. This is all over the world. Look at England. The final chapter in the Millais story. In America, curtains for Francois.
I shall die in earnest if I am not fed. Oh, what are you doing here, Francois? We're out in bed, wasting away. Look at me. Nothing but skin and bones while you two gorge yourself on Madame Maffigneur's heavenly cuisine. It's not fair. This is the thanks we get for making the man a genius. Hang being a genius. When can I get a decent meal? Really, Smith? We should hire a burglar. Francois, back into bed quickly. Just the wing of the chicken? No. Not even the neck. Thank you very much. Quickly, Francois. I might as well die and be done with it. Let me see who that is. Oh, let me in quickly. Oh, Madame Lucerne, please.
[00:36:39] Unknown:
You know the whole world is talking about the grape Francois Millet? Yes, madame. A tragedy. The demand for his paintings rises by the hour.
[00:36:48] Unknown:
We have plenty stacks of them, which madame can take back to Paris and sell. Oh, no, monsieur.
[00:36:54] Unknown:
They will sell better after he dies. The poor man. He's at death's door, is he not?
[00:37:01] Unknown:
Yes, madame. Standing on the threshold, as it were. Oh, may I pay my respect?
[00:37:08] Unknown:
Well, madame, you you Mister Smith, please tell your friend I am so attached to the master that I should be desolated if I cannot see him at least once before before oh, I I cannot
[00:37:22] Unknown:
bring myself to stay. Madame. Madame. This way, please. Francois. Francois. A beautiful lady to see you. Oh, poor Francois. He seems to be in a coma. Monsieur,
[00:37:42] Unknown:
he looks remarkably healthy for one who is supposed to be
[00:37:46] Unknown:
terribly ravaged by illness. Oh, well, looks are deceptive, you know. I thought you said he was at death's doing. Oh, yes. He is. Oh, well,
[00:37:56] Unknown:
timing me. You realize everything in life as well as death. This would be an excellent week. Oh, it would. Next week, everyone will be talking about a new opera by Wagner, and we expect some stunt or other from Alexandre Dumas the younger. But this this is a very quiet week. Oh, I see. Of course, I realize that man goes when he is summoned to the divine presence and not a minute before. How true. However, there is always the possibility that one is too busy to hear the summons. Yes. Well, as you can see, madame, he is failing before our very eyes. Poor poor man. Well, I I must return to Paris where I shall say, of course, that he died in my arms.
[00:38:46] Unknown:
Oh,
[00:38:47] Unknown:
tragedy. Yes. Well, I must hurry back there to speak with
[00:38:51] Unknown:
all the journalists. Of course. Of course.
[00:38:54] Unknown:
I had, taken the liberty to order a coffin. A coffin? Yes. It should be at your doorstep at any moment. Oh. A most splendid final home for a man of such magnificent. Thank you, madame. Well, I felt it was the least I could do. And now if you will excuse me, I must return. Of course. Oh oh, do you mind if I leave this valise here? It might be too much trouble to carry back. Of course not, madame. I thought I would stay longer. I had brought a change of costume, but that dress bores me. Why not give it to some deserving charity?
[00:39:37] Unknown:
As you wish, madame. A few hours after she left us, there was another knock on the door. And it was, you guessed it, the coffin. A small coffin. How would Francois ever get into it? Oh, what was I thinking? Francois wouldn't get into the coffin. Carl and I had already prepared a dummy for that purpose. Our basic problem was How am I supposed to get out of the house? Are we ready to make the announcement? We have a problem, Francois. Well, I thought you were working on that problem, Smith. Well speak out through the back window. Oh, the house is surrounded. Where would you go? Everyone knows you for miles around, especially now.
Smith, you should have thought of this before. I did think of it. I just couldn't come up with any solution. I can't die until I know where I'm going. Would we could all say that? And the best time for it, as that, Madame Lucerne said is this week. Yeah. Madame Lucerne, why didn't we ask her to propose a way out of this difficult Madame Lucerne, of course. She foresaw the problem, and she's given us a way out. Oh, oh, oh, hand me her valise. What? How can her valise get up? Yeah. See? You see this costume? A black dress? Yes.
Black hat? A veil. These are for the lady in black. Who is the lady in black? Oh, a mysterious mourner, a woman who loved you deeply, passionately. But who is she? No one knows. Put on the dress. Oh, no. A hurry, Francois. Come on. I feel ridiculous. You better start feeling sad. Very sad. No. No. Just a few quiet sobs. Nothing loud. Nothing uncontrolled. Just, let's say, the dignified weeping of a woman of high breeding and great dignity. And is Isn't that what she's supposed to be? Oh, well, would our friend, Francois, choose any other kind of mistress? Oh, by the way, is the coffin sealed? Coffin is ready. Picture of her, Francois. Yeah. Oh, fine. Fine. Excellent.
Come, my friends, Those of us who loved him best, his pupils and the mysterious woman who loved him, we have an announcement to make to the world. Open the door, Carl. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a most melancholy statement to make. So so you buried Francois Mireille, ain't we? Yes, Twain. We buried the dummy in the coffin. There was a great few. Oh, yes. And Millet disguised as the woman escaped detection. The world was convinced Millet had died. What happened to him? Oh, can you keep a secret? I can only cry. Remember that elderly gentleman I pointed out to you earlier this morning? That That was Francois Millet?
That was Francois Millet. For once, a great artist was not starved and killed by indifference and neglect, and then given the vain and empty pomp of a loud and meaningless funeral. No. We saw to that. Francois Millet has never known and will never know another hungry day.
[00:43:12] Unknown:
Who was it that said, live well, and that's the best revenge live well so few artists can manage it in the face of indifference and just plain misunderstanding and when Mark Twain wrote the story he did it in the spirit of here's one for our side. Well, we're always on your side, and we'll be back here in just a few moments.
[00:43:51] Unknown:
Is he living or is he dead?
[00:43:55] Unknown:
Well, of course, he's dead today, but was he living back in 1892, the date of the story? Was Mark Twain playing a gentle hoax on all of us, or was the old practical joker himself the victim of a practical joke? We'll never know, but we do know we'll be here seven times each week. Our cast included Alexander Scourby, Court Benson, Paul Hecht, and Bryna Rayburn. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Tragedy at its finest, inevitable, inexorable, and somehow, in the honesty of all but the central villain, ennobling.
I'll be back shortly. It would be unfair, of course, to leave our tragedy just as it resolved itself for only one reason, that sinister, despicable, unforgivable Iago. I'm glad to report that for those of you who might not know in advance, his punishment well fitted the crime. Since Cassio was governor and in a sense dictator of Cyprus, it was left to him to dispose of Iago. When all the facts came out, how kind would you have been? Our cast included Arnold Moss, Marion Seldes, Joan Arliss, Cort Benson, Ralph Bell, and Ian Martin. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown.
What you're hearing is Hardie fiber cement siding living up to its reputation as the siding that handles hail impact with ease. James Hardie knows how important a reputation is, especially when you're a contractor. That's why Hardie's siding withstands severe weather better than vinyl siding, with styles to match its strength, so you can be sure you're providing your clients with the best. Protect your reputation with exterior products by James
[00:00:36] Unknown:
Hardie. Come in.
[00:00:49] Unknown:
Welcome. I'm EG Marshall. The great French writer Balzac called life the human comedy. Our own Mark Twain saw it as a human tragedy. What's in a name? There are great many laughs in a true tragedy and plenty of tears in a genuine comedy. Mark Twain's long suit was irony, and now we have an opportunity to see how he plays that kind of hand in one of the greatest stories
[00:01:19] Unknown:
of deception ever written. And there's no doubt about it. You can be wealthy. Oh, I like that. Famous. Famous too. Absolutely. And powerful. Wealthy? Famous? Powerful. A force in the world of art. It sounds wonderful. That's what you're giving me. And, in return, what do I have to give you? Your life.
[00:01:50] Unknown:
Our mystery drama, Is He Living or Is He Dead? Was adapted from the Mark Twain classic especially for the mystery theater by Sam Dann and stars Alexander Scorby. It is unfortunate but true that a great many creative men are killed by poverty. As a matter of fact, the circumstance has been so universal that it has even been made romantic. How many stories, operas, plays, are about artists who starve in garrets van Gogh Schubert Mozart Rembrandt Poe to name but a tiny few all died of neglect must it be ever thus Mark Twain is about to present another perspective
[00:02:57] Unknown:
I was spending the month of March 1892 at Montaub on the Riviera fully enjoying the flooding sunshine, the balmy air, and the brilliant blue sea without the morning additions of human fuss and display, which one encounters a few miles away at Nice and Monte Carlo. As a rule, the rich do not come here, but now now and then, the rich man does show up. And I got acquainted with one, partially to disguise him as we call him Smith. One morning, we were having breakfast at the Hotel des Anglais when he exclaimed Quick. Cast your eye, Batman.
Which man? The one just going out the door. Yes? Do you know who he is? Why are you so excited, mister? Oh, no. Do you? Do you? Well, I I I think so. He spent several days here just before you arrived. You know anything about him? Someone said he's he's an old retired and very rich silk manufacturer from Lyon or was in Lille. Well, what else do you know about him? Well, I don't know anything about him except, Except what? Well, I I would assume he must be all alone in the world. Oh, why? Why? But he looks so so sad and and dreamy, and he doesn't talk with anyone.
Would you know his name? Yes. It's Theophile Manon. Well? Well, what? Well, what are you going to tell me? Tell you? About the old gentleman. Oh. Smith, taking you by and large? You're quite a character. Here, the mere sight of a person sent you into a perfect fit. One might have thought the man was Jack the Ripper the way you seem to take on about him. And now you you simply cannot say, oh, and just haul down the flag. Smith? Smith, are you awake? Shh. I'm trying to think. About what? It's one of Hans Andersen's beautiful little stories. How did he get into the discussion? I remember only one part of it.
Do you remember the old man who just left? Seems a child has a caged bird, which it loves, but thoughtlessly neglects. And the bird pours out its sweet song unheard and unheeded. You follow this? Well, yes. In time, hunger and thirst assail the poor bird. Its song grows feeble and plaintive, and finally ceases. And the bird dies. Well, the child comes by and you know what happens, don't you? Well, I would say the child sees the poor dead bird and is smitten to the heart with remorse. And then with bitter tears, the child calls his mates and they bury the bird with elaborate pomp and the tenderest grief. Oh, and you have read the story. Oh, it's an old story. The children don't know that they're only aping their elders, who also starve poets to death, and then spend enough on their funerals and monuments to have kept them alive and made them easy and comfortable. Yeah. Yeah. And now how about the old gentleman?
Dwayne, can you keep a secret? No better than you. You look like a man who is bursting to break one. Well, it's been a secret for many years between me and two others, but I'm going to break the seal now. You know, a long time ago, I was a young artist. You? Mhmm. You, Smith, were an artist? And I wandered around the French countryside just sketching, you know. Were you successful? Oh, bless you now. I I was starving. Well, how did you live? A typically American question. Why not? I'm a typical American. The answer is I pawned my way across France. One by one, I sold all my belongings till I was reduced to the clothes on my back. Even they started to go one by one.
Finally, almost naked and down and out, I found myself on a in a small, Breton village. And there I was taken in and literally saved by a fellow artist named Francois Millet. Who? Francois Millet. With a great Francois Millet? Oh, great. He wasn't any greater than I was. He hadn't any fame at all, even in his own village. Oh, the great Francois Millet. Let me tell you about the great Francois Millet. He made me welcome. What a generous, great hearted fellow he was. I'll never forget that first day. Smith. Smith. Our all Englishmen named Smith.
Sometimes it seems that way. Now where can you sleep? I'll sleep anywhere. There are no soft places on the floor, so one is as good as another. Now for dinner. I I feel badly. I I can see there isn't very much, monsieur Millet. You cannot call a French painter monsieur till he's received the legion of honor. And I have a better chance of being struck by lightning. You must call me Francois. Now dinner. All we have are turnips. Unless, of course, Karl can scare up something. Karl? Karl Boulanger. He's also a painter, and he lives here too. Speak of the devil.
How shall we prepare the turnips tonight, Francois? That tells me everything. Well, how about turnips remoulade? No. We have no egg yolks. I have it, Carl, sauteed with mushrooms. Yeah. We have no butter. I don't trust your judgment when it comes to picking wild mushrooms. Well, then I suppose we'll have to boil them as usual. Who is this? Oh, Smith. An Englishman. Smith, this madcap is Karl Boulogne. I do. He doesn't look like an Englishman. All Englishmen are supposed to be rich. Smith is a painter. Poor devil. Why didn't you arrange to be born in France, and then you would have learned to starve properly. I can starve as decently as any Frenchman. What's that? What?
That canvas against the wall. I just noticed it. You know that? I call it the Angelus. It isn't too bad, Desmond. I've never seen anything like it. It's a masterpiece. There's a a feeling of oneness with God. Karl, I, I have a confession to make. Do you suppose, sir? I was offered CHF5 for it. When? Last week. Yes. A week ago, Thursday. And what happened? I turned it down. You turned it down. Francois, CHF5 means a dozen eggs upon the border. I know. I know. But you see, the man appeared anxious Yes. And so I asked for CHF8. And? He said he would think about it and let me know. Oh, the kiss of death. Why didn't you take the CHF5? You mean you would have Francois sell the Angelus for CHF5? Right now, I would sell it for a pork chop.
Sauteed with onions. Oh. Without the chopped vinaigrette, southern nicoise, and a very dry Bordeaux. Carl, when will you learn that the proper wine for pork is a light burgundy? I must educate your palate. You have scorned. What a fantastic pun. Don't you get it, Smith? No. I The English, the English as a rule, Karl, are rather slow in these matters of humor. Francois was also my painting de turn. You see, he has educated both my palette and my palette. You still don't get? Oh, yeah. Yeah. Yes. It is. It's rather fine. No. No. No. No. You're right. It is a rather feeble jest. But you see it passes the time, and then we forget how hungry we are. And how tired and disappointed and disillusioned.
Come, Carl. One cannot have everything. Look at what we have in this room. Behold these canvases. A feast for the eye, a feast for the mind, a feast for the soul. And not even a crumb for the stomach. Be of good cheer, Carl. Perhaps tomorrow, something will turn up. I caught you. Another one. You get it, Smith? What will turn up tomorrow will be another turnip for dinner as usual. Oh, yes. Yes. Well, now, gentlemen, the situation is quite serious. We are on the verge of starvation. As usual. And we must come up with a solution. I agree. What do you suggest, Francois?
I don't know. How about you, Smith? Nothing occurs to me either. Well, then let's sleep on it. Which we did, after having had, of course, a boiled turnip for dinner. The next morning, I was starved, but that was nothing unusual. I decided to take the bull by the horns. I looked at Millais' paintings. How could anyone in his right mind not jump at the chance to buy them? Accordingly, I placed a few under my arm, the Angelus, Man with a Hoe, the woodcutter and death, and I began to knock on doors. Practically every door was slammed in my face. Only one elderly woman deigned to talk to me at all. What are you selling?
I see. That's painting nonsense. Oh, but, madame, I I assure you. And have you joined the other two, the scoundrels and ne'er do well? Madame, if you please It's good for nothing lady Trump who refused to work for any Madame, painting is one of the most difficult of all occupations. Painting a house, maybe. Madam, I am here to help you to get rich. Ah. You must admit that there are paintings which are worth millions. Yes? Now admit it. Well Here is your golden opportunity. A few pennies invested today will bring fabulous dividends tomorrow. How do I know? Because these are the paintings of the great Francois Millet.
The great Francois Millet. Yes, madam. These paintings will increase a hundredfold, a thousandfold in value because Francois Millet is a genius. He is? There's no doubt about it. Who said so? She slammed the door in my face. And at that moment, a great light exploded in my brain. Who says so? I raced home. I couldn't wait to share this flash of sudden insight with my companions. Hunger creates great divisions, Francois. Continues me. She and everyone else in this town, they don't make up their own minds. They don't decide things for themselves. Oh, but that's how people are everywhere. And so she looks at you, Francois, and at me and at Karl. How is she to know that the paintings have mattered? It should be obvious. Of course. The colors, the figures, whites all over the canvas. But, unfortunately, no one has told her that as yet. What do you mean no one? I've been trying to sell these paintings for months, years.
I patiently try to explain it. But who are you? Who am I? I'm Karl Boulanger, a painter. No. You're Karl Boulanger, a shiftless, good for nothing, who would prefer to beg for his bread sooner than work for it. Who has perpetrated this infamous fortune? And so am I, and so is Francois. What he says is true, Karl. And yet yet if someone in authority were to say, Francois Millet, truly a great master. Why, overnight, Francois would be the toast of the town. Yes. Authority. That's what the people look for. No one wants to make up his own mind. Francois, we shall have an authority to authenticate your greatness. An authority? Of course.
A great Parisian authority. I know professor Louis de Coupe. Who? He's the most respected professor of art at the university. No. No. No. He won't do, Francois. But he's the most learned. We don't want learned people. We want famous people. Oh. Ah, I have it. Madame Lucerne, Chevron's the most talked about Salon in Paris. You mean the most notorious And if she says a painting is great, it'll be hailed as a masterpiece. But does she know anything at all about painting? Probably not. But then Well, the question is, who should go? You are the smoothest talker, Tom.
No. I nominate Smith to be our own boy. Me? Why? Because you're the handsomest. Oh, but what does that have to do with the Do you recall the legend of the Golden Fleece? Oh, yeah. The legendary band of ancient great heroes who went after it? Whom did they choose as their leader? Not Hercules, the strongest, or Ulysses, the wisest, but Jason, the handsomest. Because they knew it would be necessary to seduce a woman in order to win the prize. Oh, but I I I no. Look. You may not have to go that far. And what if he does? We must all make sacrifices for art.
[00:16:29] Unknown:
Yes. And some of us must make heavier sacrifices than others. But as you can see, there's more to becoming a famous artist than merely painting a great or even a good picture. Sometimes one must play the game of love and even the game of death. However, all that is the affair of the second act, which I shall bring you in just a few moments. We may all have to revise some of our ideas about art before our story is over. At any rate, we're back in the year 1892, and Mark Twain is chatting with a wealthy elderly Englishman in a hotel on the sun washed shores of the French Riviera.
[00:17:25] Unknown:
Now, Smith, what are you telling me? That some twenty five or thirty years ago, you and the painter Francois Millet and Karl Boulanger. Yes. And yourself were starving artists in a provincial French town? Exactly. And did you concocted some mad scheme to get Millais recognized? Ah, but you haven't heard the scheme yet. You see, if you're a creative artist, people don't know you're good unless somebody who speaks with authority says so. You get no argument from me on that scores, mate. Well, they had the idea to send me to the salon of Madame Lucerne in Paris. She was a former mistress of King Louis Napoleon himself.
Which made her an eminent critic, connoisseur, and authority on the island. Exactly. Well, how did you propose to gain admission to Madame Salon? You were, after all, a ragged man or woman. I did the only thing any sensible man would do under the circumstances. I broke into a bedroom. Who who who is that? Don't be alarmed, madame. I I'm not a burglar. You are not a burglar. And and please don't pull on that bell cord.
[00:18:43] Unknown:
Allow me to give you two reasons why you are a burglar. First, you break into my Oh, but, madame Second, under your arm, I see some paintings,
[00:18:52] Unknown:
which you have obviously stolen from my house. No, madame. I haven't come here to steal paintings, but to present you with some. Presenting? Yes, madame. Because you are the supreme and sublime authority on art. Ah. Look at these, madame. Isn't each a masterpiece?
[00:19:09] Unknown:
Frightly, monsieur. I wouldn't have the faintest idea. Now what is this game you wish to play with me? Oh, game? All men have one game or another in mind where I am concerned. And since you are not half bad looking.
[00:19:27] Unknown:
It is for a friend. Ah. The man is a genius. One word from you.
[00:19:33] Unknown:
One word from me. How simple you make it all sound. But it is simple for you.
[00:19:38] Unknown:
You've turned unknown men into great writers, composers overnight. Oh, it's not a simple matter. And it doesn't happen overnight. The man must have something. Francois Millet has everything. He's a genius. The woods are filled with genius. Oh, but surely, I mean, just look at these paintings. Now
[00:19:58] Unknown:
I could make a great painter out of you.
[00:20:02] Unknown:
Me?
[00:20:03] Unknown:
You are the love bandit. Of what? You break into the boudoirs of famous ladies and you leave behind a painting as a memento of the adventure. These you have here are excellent for the purpose. Shall we begin?
[00:20:21] Unknown:
Oh, but, no. No. These paintings are not mine. Who is to know the difference? The work of Francois Millet. Must we discuss that tiresome name? You see how each painting bears his hallmark, his unique style?
[00:20:34] Unknown:
These things are lost on me. I know nothing of art. Oh, isn't there anything you could do to help me, Larry? Sit beside me, and we can talk more comfortably.
[00:20:46] Unknown:
Yes. Yes. No. No. Surely, there there's something you could do for him.
[00:20:51] Unknown:
Why? Well, because one day, he would be a glory to France. Oh, monsieur, you're an Englishman. Yes. Why should you worry about the
[00:21:01] Unknown:
glory of France? Well, the the glory of the world.
[00:21:04] Unknown:
Oh, well, I think we must decently dispose of Millais. There's only one way I could hope to help him. Oh, how? He would have to be dead. Dead? I'm sorry, but that's the way it goes with geniuses. Now where were we?
[00:21:33] Unknown:
They're dead. The woman is crazy. Gentlemen, the woman is right. But Smith, it's a matter of history. She convinced me. You mean France wise to die? That is rather extreme. An artist has to be starved and dead before he's acknowledged. It happens so often, we could write a law that says the prices that the public will pay for a man's pictures will only climb after he dies. But what good does it do the dead artist if others make money on his pictures? Death lends grandeur to a man. Death makes his name illustrious. Why? I don't know, gentlemen. I don't know. There's no way out, Francois.
You simply have to die. Now look here. No. No. Let us hear him out first, Carl. Now take, several weeks. Better, several months to die. Uh-huh. And in the meantime, paint. Paint day and night. Enlarge your stock of paintings. Leave behind a ton of work, and Carl and I will make a fortune. A fortune? On the works of the late great Francois Millet. Oh, I'll have no part of this. Wait. What Smith says is not devoid of merit. Francois. Look at us. How we live. How far are we from death? How much longer can we starve like this? Freeze. To without? In a few years, we will be young no longer, and we'll be dead in any event. This way This way is madness.
I won't let you die to make me rich for a swaddler. No. But but listen. And that would be enough out of you too, Smith. You didn't let me finish. I said Carl and I would make a fortune selling your paintings, Francois, which we would then split three ways. Three ways? Yes, Carl. Three ways. You and I and Francois. Francois? What did you think I meant for Francois to actually die? What you say? No. No. No. Why should Francois die? He'll just vanish and change his name. And we'll bury a dummy and cry over it and Smith, you are the greatest scoundrel who ever lived. Thank you. What a magnificent plan.
What do you say, Francois? Well, would it be proper to play this kind of trick on the world? On the other hand, since the world will have it no other way We need work. We'll put it to the test. How? Carl, you and I will go out and do some painting. You head north and I'll go south. Choose a villa or a a business establishment of some sort. Make sure the owner notices you. You'll come over out of curiosity, and the rest will be easy. So I chose a large country house and set up my easel and began to sketch. I saw the proprietor standing on an upper veranda. I paid no attention to him. I knew that sooner or later, he'd saunter over.
Hey. That's not bad. Not bad at all. Yes. Yes. Yes. I think I think you captured that, pretty well. Hey. You're good. You're good. You know that. Well, thank you, monsieur. Well, I ought to be good. Look who taught me. No. No. Let let me see if I have one of his works with me. Oh, here here we are. My satchel. I suppose you recognize that signature down the right there. I I beg your pardon. He was my teacher. Oh. You mean you don't know the signature of Francois Millais? What have you been spending your life? It's Millais. Francois Millais. Oh, oh, of course. Of course.
What could I have been thinking about? Of course, Millet. I recognize that now. Millet, the greatest painter in France. Yes. Millet. This this little sketch is, a genuine Mille. How can you fail to see the brushstroke? Of course. Of course. Is it for sale? For sale? I may not be rich, but I'm not that poor. You know, I, really would like to buy. Well, I I I don't have a genuine mind. No. I'd I'd like to sell it to you, Bill, because I can see you really do appreciate great art. I do. But, well, there there there's a practical consideration. I I I I'd be a fool to sell it now. Why?
Why? You mean you don't know? No. He lays on his deathbed. The doctors say he can't live three months. Oh. And once he dies, his pictures can't be had for love of money. Sure. I, I'll give you CHF800 for that little sketch of his. Oh, you really do love it, don't you? It's a genuine millet. Oh, I am a fool. Alright. Take it. CHF800, Dwayne. And Mireille would have sold it for a bottle of wine. You know, two years ago, I'd sold it at auction for 80,000. It's a mad world. Well, when I came home, Carl was dancing for George.
[00:26:40] Unknown:
A thousand francs. Yeah. I sold Francoise's picture of the little girl and her mother for CHF1,000.
[00:26:49] Unknown:
Well, your thousand francs sell Carla Smith 800. What a feast we can make this evening. This evening, Francois, you'll have to get six. Six? Oh, I never felt better in my life. Tonight, you will take to your bed with the illness that will finally kill you. Alright. Alright. After dinner. You'll have to look pale one week for all the distinguished visitors. He'll flock here in droves. Why? Well, because they'll want to see you die. He's right, Francois. No one would walk across the street to see an artist who's alive, but they'd travel the length and breadth of Europe to see one dead. Well, you may as well prepare yourself, Francois. You're about to become an institution, and this place is going to be a shrine. Oh,
[00:27:36] Unknown:
you wish to see me?
[00:27:39] Unknown:
I see Madame Leo Cabotcony.
[00:27:41] Unknown:
Which one are you? Oh, mister Smith. I'm sorry to intrude. Oh, well, I I am just listening to mister Schumann here. He's a composer. Oh, excuse us, please, for just a moment, mister Schumann. Well, now, mister Smith. How have you been? Where have you been keeping yourself? I wonder, madame, if you remember your promise. Oh, I never forget the promise. To help my friend. Your friend? Yes. Francois Millet. Millet. Millet. Oh, yes. Yes. I recall now. But, mister Smith, I also remember telling you there was only one way I could help him. He would have to be dead. Yes.
[00:28:24] Unknown:
Well, madame, he's getting there. Oh, mister Smith. We are all getting there. I know. But, he should arrive there in less than a month. What are you saying? Madame, he's on his deathbed. Oh, this is tragic. Here, sit by me. Now,
[00:28:45] Unknown:
what is he dying of?
[00:28:48] Unknown:
I believe a broken heart. A broken heart. Wonderful. Yes. His heart has been broken because the world has failed to recognize his genius. Oh, this year, Michelinie,
[00:29:00] Unknown:
he's on his deathbed actually? Actually. Oh, what a cooperative gentleman. Oh, he certainly deserves to become famous. I brought you some of his paintings. Oh, yes. I see. I see. Oh, the unmistakable stamp of genius. His name shall become a household word.
[00:29:31] Unknown:
Is that how it's done? Well, it's a way. But is it all that simple?
[00:29:37] Unknown:
No.
[00:29:39] Unknown:
Not really. We'll encounter a few problems. After all, Francois Millet has to die in a convincing manner and in front of witnesses. Well, that's why we have third acts, isn't it? I shall return in a few moments. Today, our entertainments are dominated by something known as the caper. This is usually an elaborate scheme to swindle something from somebody. Money from a bank, secrets from aspiring, anything anywhere anytime like most art forms this one is hardly new we're listening to one right now it was inspired by a short story by Mark Twain, and if the word had existed in Twain's day, he might very well have named this piece
[00:30:52] Unknown:
the Francois Miele Caper. I don't understand at all, Smith. Why did you need this, Madame Lucerne? After all, you proved you could make money by using Millais' name. Both you and Karl had already sold his pictures. Yes. That that was good enough for the provinces, Dwayne. But we wanted more than just a little local reputation. We required fame. And for that, you needed Paris. And no creative artist has ever conquered Paris without the help of a woman. Meanwhile, we were having our problems. Millet didn't mind starving when we didn't have a sous, But now that there was some money But if I don't eat, I'll die. Well, that's the idea, Francois. But since I'm not to die, actually, what difference should it make? But people come to see you. You can't look healthy and robust on your deathbed. Smith is right. The reporter from that English journal yesterday did give you several suspicious looks. Meanwhile, I'm not painting. You can't have everything. And at mealtimes, I can't have anything. Well, your jokes are becoming feeble at any rate. I have an idea. Why don't we say I'm too ill to see anyone? In that way, I can eat like an elephant. You'll get away as much as an elephant too. We won't be able to get you into your coffin.
Who's getting into a coffin? Well, you'll you'll have to be carried out of here when the time comes. That is something no one has explained to me. How and when do I die? And how and when am I to be buried? All the details have not yet been worked out. Suddenly, Twain, we were invaded. Everyone wanted to see the great Francois Millais. Karl and I almost wore ourselves out guarding the door. No. I'm sorry, mister. The master is too ill to receive anyone. Yes. Yes. Of course. Of course. We will convey your regards. Meanwhile, Millet was painting away, piling up stock, as we called it.
And Madame Lucerne was selling them discreetly, of course, in Paris. The great sale was the Angelus for CHF2,200. Little did we know that the day was coming when France would struggle to own it, and a stranger would come along and capture it for a half million cash. And meanwhile, we were having problems with Millais, or I should say with his appetite. Then I I don't understand it, Carl. He gets fatter every day. Well, fatter and healthier looking. This won't do. Carl Karl, do you allow him to sneak in some food on the sly? How can you accuse me? Well, how can he gain weight on tea and toast? Well, especially tea without sugar and toast without butter. Oh, wait. Wait. Wait. Inside. Listen. Inside his room. Do you hear what I hear?
Well, I'm not sure. That has to be the sound of a spoon against a bowl. He's eating. But how? Oh, why didn't we think of it? Somebody's smuggling food into him from the outside. But who? That has to be the answer, sneaking food into his room through the window. You sit here. I'll steal around to the back of the house. What are you doing, dear? Oh, I Who? It's madame Mauffigneur. Well, I I I have Explain yourself, madame. Well, sir,
[00:34:09] Unknown:
Francois Millet is a genius, a great genius. He is? Who says so? Why, everyone says so. It's a known fact. And when I heard he was dying, I thought perhaps that what do the doctors know? The poor man probably needs a decent meal. Well, no one is allowed into the house, and so I asked yet. Well well, we can't have any more of this. Why not? Because of
[00:34:32] Unknown:
because the doctor says food will kill him. Should it matter? He's dying anyway.
[00:34:38] Unknown:
And you should see how happy he is with my soup and the roast fowl and the figs. Madam, he is not a goose to be stuffed for parfait. You needn't yell at me. I was only doing my Christianity. Want him to die in comfort. And I want him to die happy. Poor fellow, he starved most of his life. Must he go hungry to his grave? But he's very ill. He looks fine to me, fat and rosy. Perhaps my cooking can save his life. Or do you want him to die?
[00:35:15] Unknown:
Or why would I want him to die? Well, there's nothing to be done. She could prove a great embarrassment. So we let her deliver the food every day, and, of course, Carl and I were forced to eat it. Meanwhile, the house was besieged. People came from everywhere for the death watch. It was unbelievable. Read what it says here in the prize paper. The lamp flickers for Francois Millais. Great painter. Said to be in his last hours. This is all over the world. Look at England. The final chapter in the Millais story. In America, curtains for Francois.
I shall die in earnest if I am not fed. Oh, what are you doing here, Francois? We're out in bed, wasting away. Look at me. Nothing but skin and bones while you two gorge yourself on Madame Maffigneur's heavenly cuisine. It's not fair. This is the thanks we get for making the man a genius. Hang being a genius. When can I get a decent meal? Really, Smith? We should hire a burglar. Francois, back into bed quickly. Just the wing of the chicken? No. Not even the neck. Thank you very much. Quickly, Francois. I might as well die and be done with it. Let me see who that is. Oh, let me in quickly. Oh, Madame Lucerne, please.
[00:36:39] Unknown:
You know the whole world is talking about the grape Francois Millet? Yes, madame. A tragedy. The demand for his paintings rises by the hour.
[00:36:48] Unknown:
We have plenty stacks of them, which madame can take back to Paris and sell. Oh, no, monsieur.
[00:36:54] Unknown:
They will sell better after he dies. The poor man. He's at death's door, is he not?
[00:37:01] Unknown:
Yes, madame. Standing on the threshold, as it were. Oh, may I pay my respect?
[00:37:08] Unknown:
Well, madame, you you Mister Smith, please tell your friend I am so attached to the master that I should be desolated if I cannot see him at least once before before oh, I I cannot
[00:37:22] Unknown:
bring myself to stay. Madame. Madame. This way, please. Francois. Francois. A beautiful lady to see you. Oh, poor Francois. He seems to be in a coma. Monsieur,
[00:37:42] Unknown:
he looks remarkably healthy for one who is supposed to be
[00:37:46] Unknown:
terribly ravaged by illness. Oh, well, looks are deceptive, you know. I thought you said he was at death's doing. Oh, yes. He is. Oh, well,
[00:37:56] Unknown:
timing me. You realize everything in life as well as death. This would be an excellent week. Oh, it would. Next week, everyone will be talking about a new opera by Wagner, and we expect some stunt or other from Alexandre Dumas the younger. But this this is a very quiet week. Oh, I see. Of course, I realize that man goes when he is summoned to the divine presence and not a minute before. How true. However, there is always the possibility that one is too busy to hear the summons. Yes. Well, as you can see, madame, he is failing before our very eyes. Poor poor man. Well, I I must return to Paris where I shall say, of course, that he died in my arms.
[00:38:46] Unknown:
Oh,
[00:38:47] Unknown:
tragedy. Yes. Well, I must hurry back there to speak with
[00:38:51] Unknown:
all the journalists. Of course. Of course.
[00:38:54] Unknown:
I had, taken the liberty to order a coffin. A coffin? Yes. It should be at your doorstep at any moment. Oh. A most splendid final home for a man of such magnificent. Thank you, madame. Well, I felt it was the least I could do. And now if you will excuse me, I must return. Of course. Oh oh, do you mind if I leave this valise here? It might be too much trouble to carry back. Of course not, madame. I thought I would stay longer. I had brought a change of costume, but that dress bores me. Why not give it to some deserving charity?
[00:39:37] Unknown:
As you wish, madame. A few hours after she left us, there was another knock on the door. And it was, you guessed it, the coffin. A small coffin. How would Francois ever get into it? Oh, what was I thinking? Francois wouldn't get into the coffin. Carl and I had already prepared a dummy for that purpose. Our basic problem was How am I supposed to get out of the house? Are we ready to make the announcement? We have a problem, Francois. Well, I thought you were working on that problem, Smith. Well speak out through the back window. Oh, the house is surrounded. Where would you go? Everyone knows you for miles around, especially now.
Smith, you should have thought of this before. I did think of it. I just couldn't come up with any solution. I can't die until I know where I'm going. Would we could all say that? And the best time for it, as that, Madame Lucerne said is this week. Yeah. Madame Lucerne, why didn't we ask her to propose a way out of this difficult Madame Lucerne, of course. She foresaw the problem, and she's given us a way out. Oh, oh, oh, hand me her valise. What? How can her valise get up? Yeah. See? You see this costume? A black dress? Yes.
Black hat? A veil. These are for the lady in black. Who is the lady in black? Oh, a mysterious mourner, a woman who loved you deeply, passionately. But who is she? No one knows. Put on the dress. Oh, no. A hurry, Francois. Come on. I feel ridiculous. You better start feeling sad. Very sad. No. No. Just a few quiet sobs. Nothing loud. Nothing uncontrolled. Just, let's say, the dignified weeping of a woman of high breeding and great dignity. And is Isn't that what she's supposed to be? Oh, well, would our friend, Francois, choose any other kind of mistress? Oh, by the way, is the coffin sealed? Coffin is ready. Picture of her, Francois. Yeah. Oh, fine. Fine. Excellent.
Come, my friends, Those of us who loved him best, his pupils and the mysterious woman who loved him, we have an announcement to make to the world. Open the door, Carl. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a most melancholy statement to make. So so you buried Francois Mireille, ain't we? Yes, Twain. We buried the dummy in the coffin. There was a great few. Oh, yes. And Millet disguised as the woman escaped detection. The world was convinced Millet had died. What happened to him? Oh, can you keep a secret? I can only cry. Remember that elderly gentleman I pointed out to you earlier this morning? That That was Francois Millet?
That was Francois Millet. For once, a great artist was not starved and killed by indifference and neglect, and then given the vain and empty pomp of a loud and meaningless funeral. No. We saw to that. Francois Millet has never known and will never know another hungry day.
[00:43:12] Unknown:
Who was it that said, live well, and that's the best revenge live well so few artists can manage it in the face of indifference and just plain misunderstanding and when Mark Twain wrote the story he did it in the spirit of here's one for our side. Well, we're always on your side, and we'll be back here in just a few moments.
[00:43:51] Unknown:
Is he living or is he dead?
[00:43:55] Unknown:
Well, of course, he's dead today, but was he living back in 1892, the date of the story? Was Mark Twain playing a gentle hoax on all of us, or was the old practical joker himself the victim of a practical joke? We'll never know, but we do know we'll be here seven times each week. Our cast included Alexander Scourby, Court Benson, Paul Hecht, and Bryna Rayburn. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Tragedy at its finest, inevitable, inexorable, and somehow, in the honesty of all but the central villain, ennobling.
I'll be back shortly. It would be unfair, of course, to leave our tragedy just as it resolved itself for only one reason, that sinister, despicable, unforgivable Iago. I'm glad to report that for those of you who might not know in advance, his punishment well fitted the crime. Since Cassio was governor and in a sense dictator of Cyprus, it was left to him to dispose of Iago. When all the facts came out, how kind would you have been? Our cast included Arnold Moss, Marion Seldes, Joan Arliss, Cort Benson, Ralph Bell, and Ian Martin. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown.
Introduction to the Human Comedy
The Mystery Drama Begins
The Struggles of Creative Men
A Secret Revealed
The Plan to Sell Millet's Art
The Scheme Unfolds
Executing the Plan
The Francois Millet Caper
The Death Watch
The Final Act and Conclusion
