stories by english authors in germany(旅德英国作家的故事)-第13节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Kyrie eleison。 Sure no artist ever had a greater gravestone than that pure
marble sanctuary gives to him in the heart of his birthplace in the chancel
of St。 Jacques。
Without Rubens； what were Antwerp？ A dirty； dusky； bustling mart；
which no man would ever care to look upon save the traders who do
business on its wharves。 With Rubens； to the whole world of men it is a
sacred name； a sacred soil； a Bethlehem where a god of art saw light； a
Golgotha where a god of art lies dead。
O nations！ closely should you treasure your great men； for by them
alone will the future know of you。 Flanders in her generations has been
wise。 In his life she glorified this greatest of her sons； and in his death she
43
… Page 44…
STORIES
magnifies his name。 But her wisdom is very rare。
Now； the trouble of Patrasche was this。 Into these great； sad piles of
stones； that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs； the
child Nello would many and many a time enter； and disappear through
their dark； arched portals； while Patrasche； left without upon the pavement；
would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm which thus
allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion。 Once or twice
he did essay to see for himself； clattering up the steps with his milk…cart
behind him； but thereon he had been always sent back again summarily by
a tall custodian in black clothes and silver chains of office； and fearful of
bringing his little master into trouble； he desisted； and remained couched
patiently before the churches until such time as the boy reappeared。 It was
not the fact of his going into them which disturbed Patrasche； he knew that
people went to church； all the village went to the small； tumble…down；
gray pile opposite the red windmill。 What troubled him was that little
Nello always looked strangely when he came out； always very flushed or
very pale； and whenever he returned home after such visitations would sit
silent and dreaming； not caring to play； but gazing out at the evening skies
beyond the line of the canal； very subdued and almost sad。
What was it？ wondered Patrasche。 He thought it could not be good or
natural for the little lad to be so grave； and in his dumb fashion he tried all
he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the busy market…
place。 But to the churches Nello would go； most often of all would he go
to the great cathedral； and Patrasche； left without on the stones by the iron
fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate； would stretch himself and yawn and
sigh； and even howl now and then； all in vain； until the doors closed and
the child perforce came forth again； and winding his arms about the dog's
neck would kiss him on his broad； tawny…colored forehead； and murmur
always the same words； 〃If I could only see them； Patrasche！if I could
only see them！〃
What were they？ pondered Patrasche； looking up with large； wistful；
sympathetic eyes。
One day； when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar；
he got in for a moment after his little friend and saw。 〃They〃 were two
44
… Page 45…
STORIES
great covered pictures on either side of the choir。
Nello was kneeling； rapt as in an ecstasy； before the altar…picture of the
Assumption； and when he noticed Patrasche； and rose and drew the dog
gently out into the air； his face was wet with tears； and he looked up at the
veiled places as he passed them； and murmured to his companion； 〃It is so
terrible not to see them； Patrasche； just because one is poor and cannot pay！
He never meant that the poor should not see them when he painted them； I
am sure。 He would have had us see them any day； every day； that I am
sure。 And they keep them shrouded thereshrouded！ in the dark； the
beautiful things！ And they never feel the light； and no eyes look on them；
unless rich people come and pay。 If I could only see them； I would be
content to die。〃
But he could not see them； and Patrasche could not help him； for to
gain the silver piece that the church exacts as the price for looking on the
glories of the 〃Elevation of the Cross〃 and the 〃Descent of the Cross〃 was
a thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would have
been to scale the heights of the cathedral spire。 They had never so much as
a sou to spare； if they cleared enough to get a little wood for the stove； a
little broth for the pot； it was the utmost they could do。 And yet the heart
of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon beholding the
greatness of the two veiled Rubens。
The whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an
absorbing passion for art。 Going on his ways through the old city in the
early days before the sun or the people had risen； Nello； who looked only a
little peasant boy； with a great dog drawing milk to sell from door to door；
was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god。 Nello； cold and
hungry； with stockingless feet in wooden shoes； and the winter winds
blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments； was in a
rapture of meditation； wherein all that he saw was the beautiful fair face of
the Mary of the Assumption； with the waves of her golden hair lying upon
her shoulders； and the light of an eternal sun shining down upon her brow。
Nello； reared in poverty； and buffeted by fortune； and untaught in letters；
and unheeded by men； had the compensation or the curse which is called
genius。 No one knew it； he as little as any。 No one knew it。 Only； indeed；
45
… Page 46…
STORIES
Patrasche； who； being with him always； saw him draw with chalk upon the
stones any and every thing that grew or breathed； heard him on his little
bed of hay murmur all manner of timid； pathetic prayers to the spirit of the
great master； watched his gaze darken and his face radiate at the evening
glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn； and felt many and many a
time the tears of a strange； nameless pain and joy； mingled together； fall
hotly from the bright young eyes upon his own wrinkled yellow forehead。
〃I should go to my grave quite content if I thought； Nello； that when
thou growest a man thou couldst own this hut and the little plot of ground；
and labor for thyself； and be called Baas by thy neighbours；〃 said the old
man Jehan many an hour from his bed。 For to own a bit of soil； and to be
called Baas （master） by the hamlet round； is to have achieved the highest
ideal of a Flemish peasant； and the old soldier； who had wandered over all
the earth in his youth； and had brought nothing back； deemed in his old
age that to live and die on one spot in contented humility was the fairest
fate he could desire for his darling。 But Nello said nothing。
The same leaven was working in him that in other times begat Rubens
and Jordaens and the Van Eycks； and all their wondrous tribe； and in times
more recent begat in the green country of the Ardennes； where the Meuse
washes the old walls of Dijon； the great artist of the Patroclus； whose
genius is too near us for us aright to measure its divinity。
Nello dreamed of other things in the future than of tilling the little rood
of earth； and living under the wattle roof； and being called Baas by
neighbours a little poorer or a little less poor than himself。 The cathedral
spire； where it rose beyond the fields in the ruddy evening skies or in the
dim； gray； misty mornings； said other things to him than this。 But these he
told only to Patrasche； whispering； childlike； his fancies in the dog's ear
when they went together at their work through the fogs of the daybreak； or
lay together at their rest among the rustling rushes by the water's side。
For such dreams are not easily shaped into speech to awake the slow
sympathies of human auditors； and they would only have sorely perplexed
and troubled the poor old man bedridden in his corner； who； for his part；
whenever he had trodden the streets of Antwerp； had thought the daub of
blue and red that they called a Madonna； on the walls of the wine…shop
46
… Page 47…
STO
