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第36章

lay morals-第36章

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to speak in  one's lifetime with Good…Conscience; he is an austere;  unearthly friend; whom maybe Torquemada knew; and the folds  of his raiment are not merely claustral; but have something  of the horror of the pall。  Be not afraid; however; with the  hand of that appearance Mr。 Honest will get safe across。

Yet perhaps it is in sequences that this artist best displays  himself。  He loves to look at either side of a thing: as; for  instance; when he shows us both sides of the wall … 'Grace  Inextinguishable' on the one side; with the devil vainly  pouring buckets on the flame; and 'The Oil of Grace' on the  other; where the Holy Spirit; vessel in hand; still secretly  supplies the fire。  He loves; also; to show us the same event  twice over; and to repeat his instantaneous photographs at  the interval of but a moment。  So we have; first; the whole  troop of pilgrims coming up to Valiant; and Great…heart to  the front; spear in hand and parleying; and next; the same  cross…roads; from a more distant view; the convoy now  scattered and looking safely and curiously on; and Valiant  handing over for inspection his 'right Jerusalem blade。'  It  is true that this designer has no great care after  consistency: Apollyon's spear is laid by; his quiver of darts  will disappear; whenever they might hinder the designer's  freedom; and the fiend's tail is blobbed or forked at his  good pleasure。  But this is not unsuitable to the  illustration of the fervent Bunyan; breathing hurry and  momentary inspiration。  He; with his hot purpose; hunting  sinners with a lasso; shall himself forget the things that he  has written yesterday。  He shall first slay Heedless in the  Valley of the Shadow; and then take leave of him talking in  his sleep; as if nothing had happened; in an arbour on the  Enchanted Ground。  And again; in his rhymed prologue; he  shall assign some of the glory of the siege of Doubting  Castle to his favourite Valiant…for…the…Truth; who did not  meet with the besiegers till long after; at that dangerous  corner by Deadman's Lane。  And; with all inconsistencies and  freedoms; there is a power shown in these sequences of cuts:  a power of joining on one action or one humour to another; a  power of following out the moods; even of the dismal  subterhuman fiends engendered by the artist's fancy; a power  of sustained continuous realisation; step by step; in  nature's order; that can tell a story; in all its ins and  outs; its pauses and surprises; fully and figuratively; like  the art of words。

One such sequence is the fight of Christian and Apollyon …  six cuts; weird and fiery; like the text。  The pilgrim is  throughout a pale and stockish figure; but the devil covers a  multitude of defects。  There is no better devil of the  conventional order than our artist's Apollyon; with his mane;  his wings; his bestial legs; his changing and terrifying  expression; his infernal energy to slay。  In cut the first  you see him afar off; still obscure in form; but already  formidable in suggestion。  Cut the second; 'The Fiend in  Discourse;' represents him; not reasoning; railing rather;  shaking his spear at the pilgrim; his shoulder advanced; his  tail writhing in the air; his foot ready for a spring; while  Christian stands back a little; timidly defensive。  The third  illustrates these magnificent words: 'Then Apollyon straddled  quite over the whole breadth of the way; and said; I am void  of fear in this matter: prepare thyself to die; for I swear  by my infernal den that thou shalt go no farther: here will I  spill thy soul!  And with that he threw a flaming dart at his  breast。'  In the cut he throws a dart with either hand;  belching pointed flames out of his mouth; spreading his broad  vans; and straddling the while across the path; as only a  fiend can straddle who has just sworn by his infernal den。   The defence will not be long against such vice; such flames;  such red…hot nether energy。  And in the fourth cut; to be  sure; he has leaped bodily upon his victim; sped by foot and  pinion; and roaring as he leaps。  The fifth shows the  climacteric of the battle; Christian has reached nimbly out  and got his sword; and dealt that deadly home…thrust; the  fiend still stretched upon him; but 'giving back; as one that  had received his mortal wound。'  The raised head; the  bellowing mouth; the paw clapped upon the sword; the one wing  relaxed in agony; all realise vividly these words of the  text。  In the sixth and last; the trivial armed figure of the  pilgrim is seen kneeling with clasped hands on the betrodden  scene of contest and among the shivers of the darts; while  just at the margin the hinder quarters and the tail of  Apollyon are whisking off; indignant and discounted。

In one point only do these pictures seem to be unworthy of  the text; and that point is one rather of the difference of  arts than the difference of artists。  Throughout his best and  worst; in his highest and most divine imaginations as in the  narrowest sallies of his sectarianism; the human…hearted  piety of Bunyan touches and ennobles; convinces; accuses the  reader。  Through no art beside the art of words can the  kindness of a man's affections be expressed。  In the cuts you  shall find faithfully parodied the quaintness and the power;  the triviality and the surprising freshness of the author's  fancy; there you shall find him out…stripped in ready  symbolism and the art of bringing things essentially  invisible before the eyes: but to feel the contact of  essential goodness; to be made in love with piety; the book  must be read and not the prints examined。

Farewell should not be taken with a grudge; nor can I dismiss  in any other words than those of gratitude a series of  pictures which have; to one at least; been the visible  embodiment of Bunyan from childhood up; and shown him;  through all his years; Great…heart lungeing at Giant Maul;  and Apollyon breathing fire at Christian; and every turn and  town along the road to the Celestial City; and that bright  place itself; seen as to a stave of music; shining afar off  upon the hill…top; the candle of the world。



SKETCHES CHAPTER I … THE SATIRIST



MY companion enjoyed a cheap reputation for wit and insight。   He was by habit and repute a satirist。  If he did  occasionally condemn anything or anybody who richly deserved  it; and whose demerits had hitherto escaped; it was simply  because he condemned everything and everybody。  While I was  with him he disposed of St。 Paul with an epigram; shook my  reverence for Shakespeare in a neat antithesis; and fell foul  of the Almighty Himself; on the score of one or two out of  the ten commandments。  Nothing escaped his blighting censure。   At every sentence he overthrew an idol; or lowered my  estimation of a friend。  I saw everything with new eyes; and  could only marvel at my former blindness。  How was it  possible that I had not before observed A's false hair; B's  selfishness; or C's boorish manners?  I and my companion;  methought; walked the streets like a couple of gods among a  swarm of vermin; for every one we saw seemed to bear openly  upon his brow the mark of the apocalyptic beast。  I half  expected that these miserable beings; like the people of  Lystra; would recognise their betters and force us to the  altar; in which case; warned by the late of Paul and  Barnabas; I do not know that my modesty would have prevailed  upon me to decline。  But there was no need for such churlish  virtue。  More blinded than the Lycaonians; the people saw no  divinity in our gait; and as our temporary godhead lay more  in the way of observing than healing their infirmities; we  were content to pass them by in scorn。

I could not leave my companion; not from regard or even from  interest; but from a very natural feeling; inseparable from  the case。  To understand it; let us take a simile。  Suppose  yourself walking down the street with a man who continues to  sprinkle the crowd out of a flask of vitriol。  You would be  much diverted with the grimaces and contortions of his  victims; and at the same time you would fear to leave his arm  until his bottle was empty; knowing that; when once among the  crowd; you would run a good chance yourself of baptism

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