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artistic whole; and tries to translate those impressions into

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

imaginative and mental effect。  He was one of the first to develop

what has been called the art…literature of the nineteenth century;

that form of literature which has found in Mr。 Ruskin and Mr。

Browning; its two most perfect exponents。  His description of

Lancret's REPAS ITALIEN; in which 'a dark…haired girl; 〃amorous of

mischief;〃 lies on the daisy…powdered grass;' is in some respects

very charming。  Here is his account of 'The Crucifixion;' by

Rembrandt。  It is extremely characteristic of his style:…





Darkness … sooty; portentous darkness … shrouds the whole scene:

only above the accursed wood; as if through a horrid rift in the

murky ceiling; a rainy deluge … 'sleety…flaw; discoloured water' …

streams down amain; spreading a grisly spectral light; even more

horrible than that palpable night。  Already the Earth pants thick

and fast! the darkened Cross trembles! the winds are dropt … the

air is stagnant … a muttering rumble growls underneath their feet;

and some of that miserable crowd begin to fly down the hill。  The

horses snuff the coming terror; and become unmanageable through

fear。  The moment rapidly approaches when; nearly torn asunder by

His own weight; fainting with loss of blood; which now runs in

narrower rivulets from His slit veins; His temples and breast

drowned in sweat; and His black tongue parched with the fiery

death…fever; Jesus cries; 'I thirst。'  The deadly vinegar is

elevated to Him。



His head sinks; and the sacred corpse 'swings senseless of the

cross。'  A sheet of vermilion flame shoots sheer through the air

and vanishes; the rocks of Carmel and Lebanon cleave asunder; the

sea rolls on high from the sands its black weltering waves。  Earth

yawns; and the graves give up their dwellers。  The dead and the

living are mingled together in unnatural conjunction and hurry

through the holy city。  New prodigies await them there。  The veil

of the temple … the unpierceable veil … is rent asunder from top to

bottom; and that dreaded recess containing the Hebrew mysteries …

the fatal ark with the tables and seven…branched candelabrum … is

disclosed by the light of unearthly flames to the God…deserted

multitude。



Rembrandt never painted this sketch; and he was quite right。  It

would have lost nearly all its charms in losing that perplexing

veil of indistinctness which affords such ample range wherein the

doubting imagination may speculate。  At present it is like a thing

in another world。  A dark gulf is betwixt us。  It is not tangible

by the body。  We can only approach it in the spirit。





In this passage; written; the author tells us; 'in awe and

reverence;' there is much that is terrible; and very much that is

quite horrible; but it is not without a certain crude form of

power; or; at any rate; a certain crude violence of words; a

quality which this age should highly appreciate; as it is its chief

defect。  It is pleasanter; however; to pass to this description of

Giulio Romano's 'Cephalus and Procris':…





We should read Moschus's lament for Bion; the sweet shepherd;

before looking at this picture; or study the picture as a

preparation for the lament。  We have nearly the same images in

both。  For either victim the high groves and forest dells murmur;

the flowers exhale sad perfume from their buds; the nightingale

mourns on the craggy lands; and the swallow in the long…winding

vales; 'the satyrs; too; and fauns dark…veiled groan;' and the

fountain nymphs within the wood melt into tearful waters。  The

sheep and goats leave their pasture; and oreads; 'who love to scale

the most inaccessible tops of all uprightest rocks;' hurry down

from the song of their wind…courting pines; while the dryads bend

from the branches of the meeting trees; and the rivers moan for

white Procris; 'with many…sobbing streams;'





Filling the far…seen ocean with a voice。





The golden bees are silent on the thymy Hymettus; and the knelling

horn of Aurora's love no more shall scatter away the cold twilight

on the top of Hymettus。  The foreground of our subject is a grassy

sunburnt bank; broken into swells and hollows like waves (a sort of

land…breakers); rendered more uneven by many foot…tripping roots

and stumps of trees stocked untimely by the axe; which are again

throwing out light…green shoots。  This bank rises rather suddenly

on the right to a clustering grove; penetrable to no star; at the

entrance of which sits the stunned Thessalian king; holding between

his knees that ivory…bright body which was; but an instant agone;

parting the rough boughs with her smooth forehead; and treading

alike on thorns and flowers with jealousy…stung foot … now

helpless; heavy; void of all motion; save when the breeze lifts her

thick hair in mockery。



From between the closely…neighboured boles astonished nymphs press

forward with loud cries …





And deerskin…vested satyrs; crowned with ivy twists; advance;

And put strange pity in their horned countenance。





Laelaps lies beneath; and shows by his panting the rapid pace of

death。  On the other side of the group; Virtuous Love with 'vans

dejected' holds forth the arrow to an approaching troop of sylvan

people; fauns; rams; goats; satyrs; and satyr…mothers; pressing

their children tighter with their fearful hands; who hurry along

from the left in a sunken path between the foreground and a rocky

wall; on whose lowest ridge a brook…guardian pours from her urn her

grief…telling waters。  Above and more remote than the Ephidryad;

another female; rending her locks; appears among the vine…festooned

pillars of an unshorn grove。  The centre of the picture is filled

by shady meadows; sinking down to a river…mouth; beyond is 'the

vast strength of the ocean stream;' from whose floor the

extinguisher of stars; rosy Aurora; drives furiously up her brine…

washed steeds to behold the death…pangs of her rival。





Were this description carefully re…written; it would be quite

admirable。  The conception of making a prose poem out of paint is

excellent。  Much of the best modern literature springs from the

same aim。  In a very ugly and sensible age; the arts borrow; not

from life; but from each other。



His sympathies; too; were wonderfully varied。  In everything

connected with the stage; for instance; he was always extremely

interested; and strongly upheld the necessity for archaeological

accuracy in costume and scene…painting。  'In art;' he says in one

of his essays; 'whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing

well'; and he points out that once we allow the intrusion of

anachronisms; it becomes difficult to say where the line is to be

drawn。  In literature; again; like Lord Beaconsfield on a famous

occasion; he was 'on the side of the angels。'  He was one of the

first to admire Keats and Shelley … 'the tremulously…sensitive and

poetical Shelley;' as he calls him。  His admiration for Wordsworth

was sincere and profound。  He thoroughly appreciated William Blake。

One of the best copies of the 'Songs of Innocence and Experience'

that is now in existence was wrought specially for him。  He loved

Alain Chartier; and Ronsard; and the Elizabethan dramatists; and

Chaucer and Chapman; and Petrarch。  And to him all the arts were

one。  'Our critics;' he remarks with much wisdom; 'seem hardly

aware of the identity of the primal seeds of poetry and painting;

nor that any true advancement in the serious study of one art co…

generates a proportionate perfection in the other'; and he says

elsewhere that if a man who does not admire Michael Angelo talks of

his love for Milton; he is deceiving either himself or his

listeners。  To his fellow…contributors in the LONDON MAGAZINE he

was always most generous; and praises Barry Cornwall; Allan

Cunningham; Hazlitt; Elton; and Leigh Hunt without anything of the

malice of a friend。  Some of his sketches of Charles Lamb are

admirable in their way; and; with the art of the true comedian;

borrow their style from their subject:…





What can I say of thee more than all know? that thou hadst the

gaiety of a boy with the knowledge of a man:  as gentle a heart as

ever sent tears to the eyes。



How wittily would he mistake your meaning; and put in a conceit

most seasonably out of season。  His talk without affectation was

compressed; like his beloved Elizabethans; even unto obscurity。

Like grains of fine gold; his sentences would beat out into whole

sheets。  He had small mercy on spurious fame; and a caustic

observation on the FASHION FOR MEN OF GENIUS was a standing dish。

Sir Thomas Browne was a 'bosom cronie' of his; so was Burton; and

old Fuller。  In his amorous vein he dallied with that peerless

Duchess of many…folio odour; and with the heyday comedies of

Beaumont and Fletcher he induced light dreams。  He would deliver

critica

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