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zanoni-第27部分

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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
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