zanoni-第27节

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and　Viola's　love　circling　occupation　with　happiness　and　content；

and　in　the　midst　of　these　fantasies　of　a　future　that　might　be　at

his　command；　he　was　recalled　to　the　present　by　the　clear；　strong

voice　of　Mervale；　the　man　of　common…sense。



Whoever　has　studied　the　lives　of　persons　in　whom　the　imagination

is　stronger　than　the　will；　who　suspect　their　own　knowledge　of

actual　life；　and　are　aware　of　their　facility　to　impressions；　will

have　observed　the　influence　which　a　homely；　vigorous；　worldly

understanding　obtains　over　such　natures。　　It　was　thus　with

Glyndon。　　His　friend　had　often　extricated　him　from　danger；　and

saved　him　from　the　consequences　of　imprudence；　and　there　was

something　in　Mervale's　voice　alone　that　damped　his　enthusiasm；

and　often　made　him　yet　more　ashamed　of　noble　impulses　than　weak

conduct。　　For　Mervale；　though　a　downright　honest　man；　could　not

sympathise　with　the　extravagance　of　generosity　any　more　than　with

that　of　presumption　and　credulity。　　He　walked　the　straight　line

of　life；　and　felt　an　equal　contempt　for　the　man　who　wandered　up

the　hill…sides；　no　matter　whether　to　chase　a　butterfly；　or　to

catch　a　prospect　of　the　ocean。



〃I　will　tell　you　your　thoughts；　Clarence；〃　said　Mervale；

laughing；　〃though　I　am　no　Zanoni。　　I　know　them　by　the　moisture　of

your　eyes；　and　the　half…smile　on　your　lips。　　You　are　musing　upon

that　fair　perdition；the　little　singer　of　San　Carlo。〃



The　little　singer　of　San　Carlo！　　Glyndon　coloured　as　he

answered；



〃Would　you　speak　thus　of　her　if　she　were　my　wife？〃



〃No！　for　then　any　contempt　I　might　venture　to　feel　would　be　for

yourself。　　One　may　dislike　the　duper；　but　it　is　the　dupe　that　one

despises。〃



〃Are　you　sure　that　I　should　be　the　dupe　in　such　a　union？　　Where

can　I　find　one　so　lovely　and　so　innocent；where　one　whose　virtue

has　been　tried　by　such　temptation？　　Does　even　a　single　breath　of

slander　sully　the　name　of　Viola　Pisani？〃



〃I　know　not　all　the　gossip　of　Naples；　and　therefore　cannot

answer；　but　I　know　this；　that　in　England　no　one　would　believe

that　a　young　Englishman；　of　good　fortune　and　respectable　birth；

who　marries　a　singer　from　the　theatre　of　Naples；　has　not　been

lamentably　taken　in。　　I　would　save　you　from　a　fall　of　position　so

irretrievable。　　Think　how　many　mortifications　you　will　be

subjected　to；　how　many　young　men　will　visit　at　your　house；and

how　many　young　wives　will　as　carefully　avoid　it。〃



〃I　can　choose　my　own　career；　to　which　commonplace　society　is　not

essential。　　I　can　owe　the　respect　of　the　world　to　my　art；　and　not

to　the　accidents　of　birth　and　fortune。〃



〃That　is；　you　still　persist　in　your　second　folly；the　absurd

ambition　of　daubing　canvas。　　Heaven　forbid　I　should　say　anything

against　the　laudable　industry　of　one　who　follows　such　a

profession　for　the　sake　of　subsistence；　but　with　means　and

connections　that　will　raise　you　in　life；　why　voluntarily　sink

into　a　mere　artist？　　As　an　accomplishment　in　leisure　moments；　it

is　all　very　well　in　its　way；　but　as　the　occupation　of　existence；

it　is　a　frenzy。〃



〃Artists　have　been　the　friends　of　princes。〃



〃Very　rarely　so；　I　fancy；　in　sober　England。　　There　in　the　great

centre　of　political　aristocracy；　what　men　respect　is　the

practical；　not　the　ideal。　　Just　suffer　me　to　draw　two　pictures　of

my　own。　　Clarence　Glyndon　returns　to　England；　he　marries　a　lady

of　fortune　equal　to　his　own；　of　friends　and　parentage　that

advance　rational　ambition。　　Clarence　Glyndon；　thus　a　wealthy　and

respectable　man；　of　good　talents；　of　bustling　energies　then

concentrated；　enters　into　practical　life。　　He　has　a　house　at

which　he　can　receive　those　whose　acquaintance　is　both　advantage

and　honour；　he　has　leisure　which　he　can　devote　to　useful　studies；

his　reputation；　built　on　a　solid　base；　grows　in　men's　mouths。　　He

attaches　himself　to　a　party；　he　enters　political　life；　and　new

connections　serve　to　promote　his　objects。　　At　the　age　of

five…and…forty；　what；　in　all　probability；　may　Clarence　Glyndon

be？　　Since　you　are　ambitious　I　leave　that　question　for　you　to

decide！　　Now　turn　to　the　other　picture。　　Clarence　Glyndon　returns

to　England　with　a　wife　who　can　bring　him　no　money；　unless　he　lets

her　out　on　the　stage；　so　handsome；　that　every　one　asks　who　she

is；　and　every　one　hears；the　celebrated　singer；　Pisani。

Clarence　Glyndon　shuts　himself　up　to　grind　colours　and　paint

pictures　in　the　grand　historical　school；　which　nobody　buys。

There　is　even　a　prejudice　against　him；　as　not　having　studied　in

the　Academy；as　being　an　amateur。　　Who　is　Mr。　Clarence　Glyndon？

Oh；　the　celebrated　Pisani's　husband！　　What　else？　　Oh；　he　exhibits

those　large　pictures！　　Poor　man！　they　have　merit　in　their　way；

but　Teniers　and　Watteau　are　more　convenient；　and　almost　as　cheap。

Clarence　Glyndon；　with　an　easy　fortune　while　single；　has　a　large

family　which　his　fortune；　unaided　by　marriage；　can　just　rear　up

to　callings　more　plebeian　than　his　own。　　He　retires　into　the

country；　to　save　and　to　paint；　he　grows　slovenly　and

discontented；　'the　world　does　not　appreciate　him；'　he　says；　and

he　runs　away　from　the　world。　　At　the　age　of　forty…five　what　will

be　Clarence　Glyndon？　　Your　ambition　shall　decide　that　question

also！〃



〃If　all　men　were　as　worldly　as　you；〃　said　Glyndon；　rising；　〃there

would　never　have　been　an　artist　or　a　poet！〃



〃Perhaps　we　should　do　just　as　well　without　them；〃　answered

Mervale。　　〃Is　it　not　time　to　think　of　dinner？　　The　mullets　here

are　remarkably　fine！〃





CHAPTER　2。IX。



Wollt　ihr　hoch　auf　ihren　Flugeln　schweben；

Werft　die　Angst　des　Irdischen　von　euch！

Fliehet　aus　dem　engen　dumpfen　Leben

In　des　Ideales　Reich！

〃Das　Ideal　und　das　Leben。〃



Wouldst　thou　soar　heavenward　on　its　joyous　wing？

Cast　off　the　earthly　burden　of　the　Real；

High　from　this　cramped　and　dungeoned　being；　spring

Into　the　realm　of　the　Ideal。



As　some　injudicious　master　lowers　and　vitiates　the　taste　of　the

student　by　fixing　his　attention　to　what　he　falsely　calls　the

Natural；　but　which；　in　reality；　is　the　Commonplace；　and

understands　not　that　beauty　in　art　is　created　by　what　Raphael　so

well　describes；namely；　THE　IDEA　OF　BEAUTY　IN　THE　PAINTER'S　OWN

MIND；　and　that　in　every　art；　whether　its　plastic　expression　be

found　in　words　or　marble；　colours　or　sounds；　the　servile

imitation　of　Nature　is　the　work　of　journeymen　and　tyros；so　in

conduct　the　man　of　the　world　vitiates　and　lowers　the　bold

enthusiasm　of　loftier　natures　by　the　perpetual　reduction　of

whatever　is　generous　and　trustful　to　all　that　is　trite　and

coarse。　　A　great　German　poet　has　well　defined　the　distinction

between　discretion　and　the　larger　wisdom。　　In　the　last　there　is　a

certain　rashness　which　the　first　disdains；



〃The　purblind　see　but　the　receding　shore；

Not　that　to　which　the　bold　wave　wafts　them　o'er。〃



Yet　in　this　logic　of　the　prudent　and　the　worldly　there　is　often　a

reasoning　unanswerable　of　its　kind。



You　must　have　a　feeling；a　faith　in　whatever　is　self…sacrificing

and　divine；　whether　in　religion　or　in　art；　in　glory　or　in　love；

or　Common…sense　will　reason　you　out　of　the　sacrifice；　and　a

syllogism　will　debase　the　Divine　to　an　article　in　the　market。



Every　true　critic　in　art；　from　Aristotle　and　Pliny；　from

Winkelman　and　Vasari　to　Reynolds　and　Fuseli；　has　sought　to

instruct　the　painter　that　Nature　is　not　to　be　copied；　but

EXALTED；　that　the　loftiest　order　of　art；　selecting　only　the

loftiest　combinations；　is　the　perpetual　struggle　of　Humanity　to

approach　the　gods。　　The　great　painter；　as　the　great　author；

embodies　what　is　POSSIBLE　to　MAN；　it　is　true；　but　what　is　not

COMMON　to　MANKIND。　　There　is　truth　in　Hamlet；　in　Macbeth；　and　his

witches；　in　Desdemona；　in　Othello；　in　Prospero；　and　in　Caliban；

there　is　truth　in　the　cartoons　of　Raphael；　there　is　truth　in　the

Apollo；　the　Antinous；　and　the　Laocoon。　　But　you　do　not　meet　the

originals　of　the　words；　the　cartoons；　or　the　marble；　in　Oxford

Street　or　St。　James's。　　All　these；　to　return　to　Raphael；　are　the

creatures　of　the　idea　in　the　artist's　mind。　　This　idea　is　not

inborn；　it　has　come　from　an　intense　study。　　But　that　study　has

been　of　the　ideal　that　can　be　raised　from　the　positive　and　the

actual　into　grandeur　and　beauty。　　The　commonest　model　becomes

full　of　exquisite　suggestions　to　him　who　has　formed　this　idea；　a

Venus　of　flesh　and　blood　would　be　vulgarised　by　the　imitation　of

him　who　has　not。



When　asked　where　he　got　his　models；　Guido　summoned　a　common

porter　from　his　calling；　and　drew　from　a　mean　original　a　head　of

surpassing　beauty。　　It　resembled　the　porter；　but　idealised　the

porter　to　the　hero。　　It　was　true；　but　it　was　not　real。　　There　are

critics　who　will　tell　you　that　the　Boor　of　Teniers　is　more　true

to　Nature　than　the　Porter　of　Guido！　　The　commonplace　public

scarcely　understand　the　idealising　principle；　even　in　art；　for

high　art　is　an　acquired　taste。



But　to　come　to　my　comparison。　　Still　less　is　the　kindred

principle　comprehended　in　cond