pen,pencil and poison-第1节

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PEN；　PENCIL　AND　POISON　…　A　STUDY　IN　GREEN







It　has　constantly　been　made　a　subject　of　reproach　against　artists

and　men　of　letters　that　they　are　lacking　in　wholeness　and

completeness　of　nature。　　As　a　rule　this　must　necessarily　be　so。

That　very　concentration　of　vision　and　intensity　of　purpose　which　is

the　characteristic　of　the　artistic　temperament　is　in　itself　a　mode

of　limitation。　　To　those　who　are　preoccupied　with　the　beauty　of

form　nothing　else　seems　of　much　importance。　　Yet　there　are　many

exceptions　to　this　rule。　　Rubens　served　as　ambassador；　and　Goethe

as　state　councillor；　and　Milton　as　Latin　secretary　to　Cromwell。

Sophocles　held　civic　office　in　his　own　city；　the　humourists；

essayists；　and　novelists　of　modern　America　seem　to　desire　nothing

better　than　to　become　the　diplomatic　representatives　of　their

country；　and　Charles　Lamb's　friend；　Thomas　Griffiths　Wainewright；

the　subject　of　this　brief　memoir；　though　of　an　extremely　artistic

temperament；　followed　many　masters　other　than　art；　being　not　merely

a　poet　and　a　painter；　an　art…critic；　an　antiquarian；　and　a　writer

of　prose；　an　amateur　of　beautiful　things；　and　a　dilettante　of

things　delightful；　but　also　a　forger　of　no　mean　or　ordinary

capabilities；　and　as　a　subtle　and　secret　poisoner　almost　without

rival　in　this　or　any　age。



This　remarkable　man；　so　powerful　with　'pen；　pencil　and　poison；'　as

a　great　poet　of　our　own　day　has　finely　said　of　him；　was　born　at

Chiswick；　in　1794。　　His　father　was　the　son　of　a　distinguished

solicitor　of　Gray's　Inn　and　Hatton　Garden。　　His　mother　was　the

daughter　of　the　celebrated　Dr。　Griffiths；　the　editor　and　founder　of

the　MONTHLY　REVIEW；　the　partner　in　another　literary　speculation　of

Thomas　Davis；　that　famous　bookseller　of　whom　Johnson　said　that　he

was　not　a　bookseller；　but　'a　gentleman　who　dealt　in　books；'　the

friend　of　Goldsmith　and　Wedgwood；　and　one　of　the　most　well…known

men　of　his　day。　　Mrs。　Wainewright　died；　in　giving　him　birth；　at　the

early　age　of　twenty…one；　and　an　obituary　notice　in　the　GENTLEMAN'S

MAGAZINE　tells　us　of　her　'amiable　disposition　and　numerous

accomplishments；'　and　adds　somewhat　quaintly　that　'she　is　supposed

to　have　understood　the　writings　of　Mr。　Locke　as　well　as　perhaps　any

person　of　either　sex　now　living。'　　His　father　did　not　long　survive

his　young　wife；　and　the　little　child　seems　to　have　been　brought　up

by　his　grandfather；　and；　on　the　death　of　the　latter　in　1803；　by　his

uncle　George　Edward　Griffiths；　whom　he　subsequently　poisoned。　　His

boyhood　was　passed　at　Linden　House；　Turnham　Green；　one　of　those

many　fine　Georgian　mansions　that　have　unfortunately　disappeared

before　the　inroads　of　the　suburban　builder；　and　to　its　lovely

gardens　and　well…timbered　park　he　owed　that　simple　and　impassioned

love　of　nature　which　never　left　him　all　through　his　life；　and　which

made　him　so　peculiarly　susceptible　to　the　spiritual　influences　of

Wordsworth's　poetry。　　He　went　to　school　at　Charles　Burney's　academy

at　Hammersmith。　　Mr。　Burney　was　the　son　of　the　historian　of　music；

and　the　near　kinsman　of　the　artistic　lad　who　was　destined　to　turn

out　his　most　remarkable　pupil。　　He　seems　to　have　been　a　man　of　a

good　deal　of　culture；　and　in　after　years　Mr。　Wainewright　often

spoke　of　him　with　much　affection　as　a　philosopher；　an

archaeologist；　and　an　admirable　teacher　who；　while　he　valued　the

intellectual　side　of　education；　did　not　forget　the　importance　of

early　moral　training。　　It　was　under　Mr。　Burney　that　he　first

developed　his　talent　as　an　artist；　and　Mr。　Hazlitt　tells　us　that　a

drawing…book　which　he　used　at　school　is　still　extant；　and　displays

great　talent　and　natural　feeling。　　Indeed；　painting　was　the　first

art　that　fascinated　him。　　It　was　not　till　much　later　that　he　sought

to　find　expression　by　pen　or　poison。



Before　this；　however；　he　seems　to　have　been　carried　away　by　boyish

dreams　of　the　romance　and　chivalry　of　a　soldier's　life；　and　to　have

become　a　young　guardsman。　　But　the　reckless　dissipated　life　of　his

companions　failed　to　satisfy　the　refined　artistic　temperament　of

one　who　was　made　for　other　things。　　In　a　short　time　he　wearied　of

the　service。　　'Art；'　he　tells　us；　in　words　that　still　move　many　by

their　ardent　sincerity　and　strange　fervour；　'Art　touched　her

renegade；　by　her　pure　and　high　influence　the　noisome　mists　were

purged；　my　feelings；　parched；　hot；　and　tarnished；　were　renovated

with　cool；　fresh　bloom；　simple；　beautiful　to　the　simple…hearted。'

But　Art　was　not　the　only　cause　of　the　change。　　'The　writings　of

Wordsworth；'　he　goes　on　to　say；　'did　much　towards　calming　the

confusing　whirl　necessarily　incident　to　sudden　mutations。　　I　wept

over　them　tears　of　happiness　and　gratitude。'　　He　accordingly　left

the　army；　with　its　rough　barrack…life　and　coarse　mess…room　tittle…

tattle；　and　returned　to　Linden　House；　full　of　this　new…born

enthusiasm　for　culture。　　A　severe　illness；　in　which；　to　use　his　own

words；　he　was　'broken　like　a　vessel　of　clay；'　prostrated　him　for　a

time。　　His　delicately　strung　organisation；　however　indifferent　it

might　have　been　to　inflicting　pain　on　others；　was　itself　most

keenly　sensitive　to　pain。　　He　shrank　from　suffering　as　a　thing　that

mars　and　maims　human　life；　and　seems　to　have　wandered　through　that

terrible　valley　of　melancholia　from　which　so　many　great；　perhaps

greater；　spirits　have　never　emerged。　　But　he　was　young　…　only

twenty…five　years　of　age　…　and　he　soon　passed　out　of　the　'dead

black　waters；'　as　he　called　them；　into　the　larger　air　of　humanistic

culture。　　As　he　was　recovering　from　the　illness　that　had　led　him

almost　to　the　gates　of　death；　he　conceived　the　idea　of　taking　up

literature　as　an　art。　　'I　said　with　John　Woodvil；'　he　cries；　'it

were　a　life　of　gods　to　dwell　in　such　an　element；'　to　see　and　hear

and　write　brave　things：…





'These　high　and　gusty　relishes　of　life

Have　no　allayings　of　mortality。'





It　is　impossible　not　to　feel　that　in　this　passage　we　have　the

utterance　of　a　man　who　had　a　true　passion　for　letters。　　'To　see　and

hear　and　write　brave　things；'　this　was　his　aim。



Scott；　the　editor　of　the　LONDON　MAGAZINE；　struck　by　the　young　man's

genius；　or　under　the　influence　of　the　strange　fascination　that　he

exercised　on　every　one　who　knew　him；　invited　him　to　write　a　series

of　articles　on　artistic　subjects；　and　under　a　series　of　fanciful

pseudonym　he　began　to　contribute　to　the　literature　of　his　day。

JANUS　WEATHERCOCK；　EGOMET　BONMOT；　and　VAN　VINKVOOMS；　were　some　of

the　grotesque　masks　under　which　he　choose　to　hide　his　seriousness

or　to　reveal　his　levity。　　A　mask　tells　us　more　than　a　face。　　These

disguises　intensified　his　personality。　　In　an　incredibly　short　time

he　seems　to　have　made　his　mark。　　Charles　Lamb　speaks　of　'kind；

light…hearted　Wainewright；'　whose　prose　is　'capital。'　　We　hear　of

him　entertaining　Macready；　John　Forster；　Maginn；　Talfourd；　Sir

Wentworth　Dilke；　the　poet　John　Clare；　and　others；　at　A　PETIT…DINER。

Like　Disraeli；　he　determined　to　startle　the　town　as　a　dandy；　and

his　beautiful　rings；　his　antique　cameo　breast…pin；　and　his　pale

lemon…coloured　kid　gloves；　were　well　known；　and　indeed　were

regarded　by　Hazlitt　as　being　the　signs　of　a　new　manner　in

literature：　　while　his　rich　curly　hair；　fine　eyes；　and　exquisite

white　hands　gave　him　the　dangerous　and　delightful　distinction　of

being　different　from　others。　　There　was　something　in　him　of

Balzac's　Lucien　de　Rubempre。　　At　times　he　reminds　us　of　Julien

Sorel。　　De　Quincey　saw　him　once。　　It　was　at　a　dinner　at　Charles

Lamb's。　　'Amongst　the　company；　all　literary　men；　sat　a　murderer；'

he　tells　us；　and　he　goes　on　to　describe　how　on　that　day　he　had　been

ill；　and　had　hated　the　face　of　man　and　woman；　and　yet　found　himself

looking　with　intellectual　interest　across　the　table　at　the　young

writer　beneath　whose　affectations　of　manner　there　seemed　to　him　to

lie　so　much　unaffected　sensibility；　and　speculates　on　'what　sudden

growth　of　another　interest'　would　have　changed　his　mood；　had　he

known　of　what　terrible　sin　the　guest　to　whom　Lamb　paid　so　much

attention　was　even　then　guilty。



His　life…work　falls　naturally　under　the　three　heads　suggested　by

Mr。　Swinburne；　and　it　may　be　partly　admitted　that；　if　we　set　aside

his　achievements　in　the　sphere　of　poison；　what　he　has　actually　left

to　us　hardly　justifies　his　reputation。



But　then　it　is　only　the　Philistine　who　seeks　to　estimate　a

personality　by　the　vulgar　test　of　production。　　This　young　dandy

sought　to　be　somebody；　rather　than　to　do　something。　　He　recognised

that　Life　itself　is　in　art；　and　has　its　modes　of　style　no　less　than

the　arts　that　seek　to　express　it。　　Nor　is　his　work　without

interest。　　We　hear　of　William　Blake　stopping　in　the　Royal　Academy

before　one　of　his　pictures　and　pronouncing　it　to　be　'very　fine。'

His　essays　are　prefiguring　of　much　that　has　since　been　realised。

He　seems　to　have　anticipated　some　of　those　accidents　of　modern

culture　that　are　regarded　by　many　as　true　essentials。　　He　writes

ab