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第35章

zanoni-第35章

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his enthusiasm and study。  There; before the works of Salvator;

he had often paused in deep and earnest reverence。  The striking

characteristic of that artist is the 〃Vigour of Will;〃 void of

the elevated idea of abstract beauty; which furnishes a model and

archetype to the genius of more illustrious order; the singular

energy of the man hews out of the rock a dignity of his own。  His

images have the majesty; not of the god; but the savage; utterly

free; like the sublimer schools; from the common…place of

imitation;apart; with them; from the conventional littleness of

the Real;he grasps the imagination; and compels it to follow

him; not to the heaven; but through all that is most wild and

fantastic upon earth; a sorcery; not of the starry magian; but of

the gloomy wizard;a man of romance whose heart beat strongly;

griping art with a hand of iron; and forcing it to idealise the

scenes of his actual life。  Before this powerful will; Glyndon

drew back more awed and admiring than before the calmer beauty

which rose from the soul of Raphael; like Venus from the deep。



And now; as awaking from his reverie; he stood opposite to that

wild and magnificent gloom of Nature which frowned on him from

the canvas; the very leaves on those gnome…like; distorted trees

seemed to rustle sibylline secrets in his ear。  Those rugged and

sombre Apennines; the cataract that dashed between; suited; more

than the actual scenes would have done; the mood and temper of

his mind。  The stern; uncouth forms at rest on the crags below;

and dwarfed by the giant size of the Matter that reigned around

them; impressed him with the might of Nature and the littleness

of Man。  As in genius of the more spiritual cast; the living man;

and the soul that lives in him; are studiously made the prominent

image; and the mere accessories of scene kept down; and cast

back; as if to show that the exile from paradise is yet the

monarch of the outward world;so; in the landscapes of Salvator;

the tree; the mountain; the waterfall; become the principal; and

man himself dwindles to the accessory。  The Matter seems to reign

supreme; and its true lord to creep beneath its stupendous

shadow。  Inert matter giving interest to the immortal man; not

the immortal man to the inert matter。  A terrible philosophy in

art!



While something of these thoughts passed through the mind of the

painter; he felt his arm touched; and saw Nicot by his side。



〃A great master;〃 said Nicot; 〃but I do not love the school。〃



〃I do not love; but I am awed by it。  We love the beautiful and

serene; but we have a feeling as deep as love for the terrible

and dark。〃



〃True;〃 said Nicot; thoughtfully。  〃And yet that feeling is only

a superstition。  The nursery; with its tales of ghosts and

goblins; is the cradle of many of our impressions in the world。

But art should not seek to pander to our ignorance; art should

represent only truths。  I confess that Raphael pleases me less;

because I have no sympathy with his subjects。  His saints and

virgins are to me only men and women。〃



〃And from what source should painting; then; take its themes?〃



〃From history; without doubt;〃 returned Nicot; pragmatically;

〃those great Roman actions which inspire men with sentiments of

liberty and valour; with the virtues of a republic。  I wish the

cartoons of Raphael had illustrated the story of the Horatii; but

it remains for France and her Republic to give to posterity the

new and the true school; which could never have arisen in a

country of priestcraft and delusion。〃



〃And the saints and virgins of Raphael are to you only men and

women?〃 repeated Glyndon; going back to Nicot's candid confession

in amaze; and scarcely hearing the deductions the Frenchman drew

from his proposition。



〃Assuredly。  Ha; ha!〃 and Nicot laughed hideously; 〃do you ask me

to believe in the calendar; or what?〃



〃But the ideal?〃



〃The ideal!〃 interrupted Nicot。  〃Stuff!  The Italian critics;

and your English Reynolds; have turned your head。  They are so

fond of their 'gusto grande;' and their 'ideal beauty that speaks

to the soul!'soul!IS there a soul?  I understand a man when

he talks of composing for a refined taste;for an educated and

intelligent reason; for a sense that comprehends truths。  But as

for the soul;bah!we are but modifications of matter; and

painting is modification of matter also。〃



Glyndon turned his eyes from the picture before him to Nicot; and

from Nicot to the picture。  The dogmatist gave a voice to the

thoughts which the sight of the picture had awakened。  He shook

his head without reply。



〃Tell me;〃 said Nicot; abruptly; 〃that imposter;Zanoni!oh!  I

have now learned his name and quackeries; forsooth;what did he

say to thee of me?〃



〃Of thee?  Nothing; but to warn me against thy doctrines。〃



〃Aha! was that all?〃 said Nicot。  〃He is a notable inventor; and

since; when we met last; I unmasked his delusions; I thought he

might retaliate by some tale of slander。〃



〃Unmasked his delusions!how?〃



〃A dull and long story:  he wished to teach an old doting friend

of mine his secrets of prolonged life and philosophical alchemy。

I advise thee to renounce so discreditable an acquaintance。〃



With that Nicot nodded significantly; and; not wishing to be

further questioned; went his way。



Glyndon's mind at that moment had escaped to his art; and the

comments and presence of Nicot had been no welcome interruption。

He turned from the landscape of Salvator; and his eye falling on

a Nativity by Coreggio; the contrast between the two ranks of

genius struck him as a discovery。  That exquisite repose; that

perfect sense of beauty; that strength without effort; that

breathing moral of high art; which speaks to the mind through the

eye; and raises the thoughts; by the aid of tenderness and love;

to the regions of awe and wonder;ay! THAT was the true school。

He quitted the gallery with reluctant steps and inspired ideas;

he sought his own home。  Here; pleased not to find the sober

Mervale; he leaned his face on his hands; and endeavoured to

recall the words of Zanoni in their last meeting。  Yes; he felt

Nicot's talk even on art was crime; it debased the imagination

itself to mechanism。  Could he; who saw nothing in the soul but a

combination of matter; prate of schools that should excel a

Raphael?  Yes; art was magic; and as he owned the truth of the

aphorism; he could comprehend that in magic there may be

religion; for religion is an essential to art。  His old ambition;

freeing itself from the frigid prudence with which Mervale sought

to desecrate all images less substantial than the golden calf of

the world; revived; and stirred; and kindled。  The subtle

detection of what he conceived to be an error in the school he

had hitherto adopted; made more manifest to him by the grinning

commentary of Nicot; seemed to open to him a new world of

invention。  He seized the happy moment;he placed before him the

colours and the canvas。  Lost in his conceptions of a fresh

ideal; his mind was lifted aloft into the airy realms of beauty;

dark thoughts; unhallowed desires; vanished。  Zanoni was right:

the material world shrunk from his gaze; he viewed Nature as from

a mountain…top afar; and as the waves of his unquiet heart became

calm and still; again the angel eyes of Viola beamed on them as a

holy star。



Locking himself in his chamber; he refused even the visits of

Mervale。  Intoxicated with the pure air of his fresh existence;

he remained for three days; and almost nights; absorbed in his

employment; but on the fourth morning came that reaction to which

all labour is exposed。  He woke listless and fatigued; and as he

cast his eyes on the canvas; the glory seemed to have gone from

it。  Humiliating recollections of the great masters he aspired to

rival forced themselves upon him; defects before unseen magnified

themselves to deformities in 

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