pen,pencil and poison-第2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！



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

about　La　Gioconda；　and　early　French　poets　and　the　Italian

Renaissance。　　He　loves　Greek　gems；　and　Persian　carpets；　and

Elizabethan　translations　of　CUPID　AND　PSYCHE；　and　the

HYPNEROTOMACHIA；　and　book…binding　and　early　editions；　and　wide…

margined　proofs。　　He　is　keenly　sensitive　to　the　value　of　beautiful

surroundings；　and　never　wearies　of　describing　to　us　the　rooms　in

which　he　lived；　or　would　have　liked　to　live。　　He　had　that　curious

love　of　green；　which　in　individuals　is　always　the　sign　of　a　subtle

artistic　temperament；　and　in　nations　is　said　to　denote　a　laxity；　if

not　a　decadence　of　morals。　　Like　Baudelaire　he　was　extremely　fond

of　cats；　and　with　Gautier；　he　was　fascinated　by　that　'sweet　marble

monster'　of　both　sexes　that　we　can　still　see　at　Florence　and　in　the

Louvre。



There　is　of　course　much　in　his　descriptions；　and　his　suggestions

for　decoration；　that　shows　that　he　did　not　entirely　free　himself

from　the　false　taste　of　his　time。　　But　it　is　clear　that　he　was　one

of　the　first　to　recognise　what　is；　indeed；　the　very　keynote　of

aesthetic　eclecticism；　I　mean　the　true　harmony　of　all　really

beautiful　things　irrespective　of　age　or　place；　of　school　or　manner。

He　saw　that　in　decorating　a　room；　which　is　to　be；　not　a　room　for

show；　but　a　room　to　live　in；　we　should　never　aim　at　any

archaeological　reconstruction　of　the　past；　nor　burden　ourselves

with　any　fanciful　necessity　for　historical　accuracy。　　In　this

artistic　perception　he　was　perfectly　right。　　All　beautiful　things

belong　to　the　same　age。



And　so；　in　his　own　library；　as　he　describes　it；　we　find　the

delicate　fictile　vase　of　the　Greek；　with　its　exquisitely　painted

figures　and　the　faint　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇

finely　traced　upon　its　side；　and　behind　it　hangs　an　engraving　of

the　'Delphic　Sibyl'　of　Michael　Angelo；　or　of　the　'Pastoral'　of

Giorgione。　　Here　is　a　bit　of　Florentine　majolica；　and　here　a　rude

lamp　from　some　old　Roman　tomb。　On　the　table　lies　a　book　of　Hours；

'cased　in　a　cover　of　solid　silver　gilt；　wrought　with　quaint　devices

and　studded　with　small　brilliants　and　rubies；'　and　close　by　it

'squats　a　little　ugly　monster；　a　Lar；　perhaps；　dug　up　in　the　sunny

fields　of　corn…bearing　Sicily。'　　Some　dark　antique　bronzes　contrast

with　the　pale　gleam　of　two　noble　CHRISTI　CRUCIFIXI；　one　carved　in

ivory；　the　other　moulded　in　wax。'　　He　has　his　trays　of　Tassie's

gems；　his　tiny　Louis…Quatorze　BONBONNIERE　with　a　miniature　by

Petitot；　his　highly　prized　'brown…biscuit　teapots；　filagree…

worked；'　his　citron　morocco　letter…case；　and　his　'pomona…green'

chair。



One　can　fancy　him　lying　there　in　the　midst　of　his　books　and　casts

and　engravings；　a　true　virtuoso；　a　subtle　connoisseur；　turning　over

his　fine　collection　of　Mare　Antonios；　and　his　Turner's　'Liber

Studiorum；'　of　which　he　was　a　warm　admirer；　or　examining　with　a

magnifier　some　of　his　antique　gems　and　cameos；　'the　head　of

Alexander　on　an　onyx　of　two　strata；'　or　'that　superb　ALTISSIMO

RELIEVO　on　cornelian；　Jupiter　AEgiochus。'　　He　was　always　a　great

amateur　of　engravings；　and　gives　some　very　useful　suggestions　as　to

the　best　means　of　forming　a　collection。　　Indeed；　while　fully

appreciating　modern　art；　he　never　lost　sight　of　the　importance　of

reproductions　of　the　great　masterpieces　of　the　past；　and　all　that

he　says　about　the　value　of　plaster　casts　is　quite　admirable。



As　an　art…critic　he　concerned　himself　primarily　with　the　complex

impressions　produced　by　a　work　of　art；　and　certainly　the　first　step

in　aesthetic　criticism　is　to　realise　one's　own　impressions。　　He

cared　nothing　for　abstract　discussions　on　the　nature　of　the

Beautiful；　and　the　historical　method；　which　has　since　yielded　such

rich　fruit；　did　not　belong　to　his　day；　but　he　never　lost　sight　of

the　great　truth　that　Art's　first　appeal　is　neither　to　the　intellect

nor　to　the　emotions；　but　purely　to　the　artistic　temperament；　and　he

more　than　once　points　out　that　this　temperament；　this　'taste；'　as

he　calls　it；　being　unconsciously　guided　and　made　perfect　by

frequent　contact　with　the　best　work；　becomes　in　the　end　a　form　of

right　judgment。　　Of　course　there　are　fashions　in　art　just　as　there

are　fashions　in　dress；　and　perhaps　none　of　us　can　ever　quite　free

ourselves　from　the　influence　of　custom　and　the　influence　of

novelty。　　He　certainly　could　not；　and　he　frankly　acknowledges　how

difficult　it　is　to　form　any　fair　estimate　of　contemporary　work。

But；　on　the　whole；　his　taste　was　good　and　sound。　　He　admired　Turner

and　Constable　at　a　time　when　they　were　not　so　much　thought　of　as

they　are　now；　and　saw　that　for　the　highest　landscape　art　we　require

more　than　'mere　industry　and　accurate　transcription。'　　Of　Crome's

'Heath　Scene　near　Norwich'　he　remarks　that　it　shows　'how　much　a

subtle　observation　of　the　elements；　in　their　wild　moods；　does　for　a

most　uninteresting　flat；'　and　of　the　popular　type　of　landscape　of

his　day　he　says　that　it　is　'simply　an　enumeration　of　hill　and　dale；

stumps　of　trees；　shrubs；　water；　meadows；　cottages　and　houses；

little　more　than　topography；　a　kind　of　pictorial　map…work；　in　which

rainbows；　showers；　mists；　haloes；　large　beams　shooting　through

rifted　clouds；　storms；　starlight；　all　the　most　valued　materials　of

the　real　painter；　are　not。'　　He　had　a　thorough　dislike　of　what　is

obvious　or　commonplace　in　art；　and　while　he　was　charmed　to

entertain　Wilkie　at　dinner；　he　cared　as　little　for　Sir　David's

pictures　as　he　did　for　Mr。　Crabbe's　poems。　　With　the　imitative　and

realistic　tendencies　of　his　day　he　had　no　sympathy　and　he　tells　us

frankly　that　his　great　admiration　for　Fuseli　was　largely　due　to　the

fact　that　the　little　Swiss　did　not　consider　it　necessary　that　an

artist　should　paint　only　what　he　sees。　　The　qualities　that　he

sought　for　in　a　picture　were　composition；　beauty　and　dignity　of

line；　richness　of　colour；　and　imaginative　power。　　Upon　the　other

hand；　he　was　not　a　doctrinaire。　　'I　hold　that　no　work　of　art　can　be

tried　otherwise　than　by　laws　deduced　from　itself：　　whether　or　not

it　be　consistent　with　itself　is　the　question。'　　This　is　one　of　his

excellent　aphorisms。　　And　in　criticising　painters　so　different　as

Landseer　and　Martin；　Stothard　and　Etty；　he　shows　that；　to　use　a

phrase　now　classical；　he　is　trying　'to　see　the　object　as　in　itself

it　really　is。'



However；　as　I　pointed　out　before；　he　never　feels　quite　at　his　ease

in　his　criticisms　of　contemporary　work。　　'The　present；'　he　says；

'is　about　as　agreeable　a　confusion　to　me　as　Ariosto　on　the　first

perusal。　。　。　。　Modern　things　dazzle　me。　　I　must　look　at　them

through　Time's　telescope。　　Elia　complains　that　to　him　the　merit　of

a　MS。　poem　is　uncertain；　〃print；〃　as　he　excellently　says；　〃settles

it。〃　　Fifty　years'　toning　does　the　same　thing　to　a　picture。'　　He　is

happier　when　he　is　writing　about　Watteau　and　Lancret；　about　Rubens

and　Giorgione；　about　Rembrandt；　Corregio；　and　Michael　Angelo；

happiest　of　all　when　he　is　writing　about　Greek　things。　　What　is

Gothic　touched　him　very　little；　but　classical　art　and　the　art　of

the　Renaissance　were　always　dear　to　him。　　He　saw　what　our　English

school　could　gain　from　a　study　of　Greek　models；　and　never　wearies

of　pointing　out　to　the　young　student　the　artistic　possibilities

that　lie　dormant　in　Hellenic　marbles　and　Hellenic　methods　of　work。

In　his　judgments　on　the　great　Italian　Masters；　says　De　Quincey；

'there　seemed　a　tone　of　sincerity　and　of　native　sensibility；　as　in

one　who　spoke　for　himself；　and　was　not　merely　a　copier　from　books。'

The　highest　praise　that　we　can　give　to　him　is　that　he　tried　to

revive　style　as　a　conscious　tradition。　　But　he　saw　that　no　amount

of　art　lectures　or　art　congresses；　or　'plans　for　advancing　the　fine

arts；'　will　ever　produce　this　result。　　The　people；　he　says　very

wisely；　and　in　the　true　spirit　of　Toynbee　Hall；　must　always　have

'the　best　models　constantly　before　their　eyes。'



As　is　to　be　expected　from　one　who　was　a　painter；　he　is　often

extremely　technical　in　his　art　criticisms。　　Of　Tintoret's　'St。

George　delivering　the　Egyptian　Princess　from　the　Dragon；'　he

remarks：…





The　robe　of　Sabra；　warmly　glazed　with　Prussian　blue；　is　relieved

from　the　pale　greenish　background　by　a　vermilion　scarf；　and　the

full　hues　of　both　are　beautifully　echoed；　as　it　were；　in　a　lower

key　by　the　purple…lake　coloured　stuffs　and　bluish　iron　armour　of

the　saint；　besides　an　ample　balance　to　the　vivid　azure　drapery　on

the　foreground　in　the　indigo　shades　of　the　wild　wood　surrounding

the　castle。





And　elsewhere　he　talks　learnedly　of　'a　delicate　Schiavone；　various

as　a　tulip…bed；　with　rich　broken　tints；'　of　'a　glowing　portrait；

remarkable　for　MORBIDEZZA；　by　the　scarce　Moroni；'　and　of　another

picture　being　'pulpy　in　the　carnations。'



But；　as　a　rule；　he　deals　with　his　impressions　of　the　work　as　an

artistic　whole；　and　tries　to　translate　those　impressions　into

words；　to　give；　as　it　were；　the　literary　equivalent　for　the