zanoni-第40部分

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which　rose　from　the　soul　of　Raphael；　like　Venus　from　the　deep。



And　now；　as　awaking　from　his　reverie；　he　stood　opposite　to　that

wild　and　magnificent　gloom　of　Nature　which　frowned　on　him　from

the　canvas；　the　very　leaves　on　those　gnome…like；　distorted　trees

seemed　to　rustle　sibylline　secrets　in　his　ear。　　Those　rugged　and

sombre　Apennines；　the　cataract　that　dashed　between；　suited；　more

than　the　actual　scenes　would　have　done；　the　mood　and　temper　of

his　mind。　　The　stern；　uncouth　forms　at　rest　on　the　crags　below；

and　dwarfed　by　the　giant　size　of　the　Matter　that　reigned　around

them；　impressed　him　with　the　might　of　Nature　and　the　littleness

of　Man。　　As　in　genius　of　the　more　spiritual　cast；　the　living　man；

and　the　soul　that　lives　in　him；　are　studiously　made　the　prominent

image；　and　the　mere　accessories　of　scene　kept　down；　and　cast

back；　as　if　to　show　that　the　exile　from　paradise　is　yet　the

monarch　of　the　outward　world；so；　in　the　landscapes　of　Salvator；

the　tree；　the　mountain；　the　waterfall；　become　the　principal；　and

man　himself　dwindles　to　the　accessory。　　The　Matter　seems　to　reign

supreme；　and　its　true　lord　to　creep　beneath　its　stupendous

shadow。　　Inert　matter　giving　interest　to　the　immortal　man；　not

the　immortal　man　to　the　inert　matter。　　A　terrible　philosophy　in

art！



While　something　of　these　thoughts　passed　through　the　mind　of　the

painter；　he　felt　his　arm　touched；　and　saw　Nicot　by　his　side。



〃A　great　master；〃　said　Nicot；　〃but　I　do　not　love　the　school。〃



〃I　do　not　love；　but　I　am　awed　by　it。　　We　love　the　beautiful　and

serene；　but　we　have　a　feeling　as　deep　as　love　for　the　terrible

and　dark。〃



〃True；〃　said　Nicot；　thoughtfully。　　〃And　yet　that　feeling　is　only

a　superstition。　　The　nursery；　with　its　tales　of　ghosts　and

goblins；　is　the　cradle　of　many　of　our　impressions　in　the　world。

But　art　should　not　seek　to　pander　to　our　ignorance；　art　should

represent　only　truths。　　I　confess　that　Raphael　pleases　me　less；

because　I　have　no　sympathy　with　his　subjects。　　His　saints　and

virgins　are　to　me　only　men　and　women。〃



〃And　from　what　source　should　painting；　then；　take　its　themes？〃



〃From　history；　without　doubt；〃　returned　Nicot；　pragmatically；

〃those　great　Roman　actions　which　inspire　men　with　sentiments　of

liberty　and　valour；　with　the　virtues　of　a　republic。　　I　wish　the

cartoons　of　Raphael　had　illustrated　the　story　of　the　Horatii；　but

it　remains　for　France　and　her　Republic　to　give　to　posterity　the

new　and　the　true　school；　which　could　never　have　arisen　in　a

country　of　priestcraft　and　delusion。〃



〃And　the　saints　and　virgins　of　Raphael　are　to　you　only　men　and

women？〃　repeated　Glyndon；　going　back　to　Nicot's　candid　confession

in　amaze；　and　scarcely　hearing　the　deductions　the　Frenchman　drew

from　his　proposition。



〃Assuredly。　　Ha；　ha！〃　and　Nicot　laughed　hideously；　〃do　you　ask　me

to　believe　in　the　calendar；　or　what？〃



〃But　the　ideal？〃



〃The　ideal！〃　interrupted　Nicot。　　〃Stuff！　　The　Italian　critics；

and　your　English　Reynolds；　have　turned　your　head。　　They　are　so

fond　of　their　'gusto　grande；'　and　their　'ideal　beauty　that　speaks

to　the　soul！'soul！IS　there　a　soul？　　I　understand　a　man　when

he　talks　of　composing　for　a　refined　taste；for　an　educated　and

intelligent　reason；　for　a　sense　that　comprehends　truths。　　But　as

for　the　soul；bah！we　are　but　modifications　of　matter；　and

painting　is　modification　of　matter　also。〃



Glyndon　turned　his　eyes　from　the　picture　before　him　to　Nicot；　and

from　Nicot　to　the　picture。　　The　dogmatist　gave　a　voice　to　the

thoughts　which　the　sight　of　the　picture　had　awakened。　　He　shook

his　head　without　reply。



〃Tell　me；〃　said　Nicot；　abruptly；　〃that　imposter；Zanoni！oh！　　I

have　now　learned　his　name　and　quackeries；　forsooth；what　did　he

say　to　thee　of　me？〃



〃Of　thee？　　Nothing；　but　to　warn　me　against　thy　doctrines。〃



〃Aha！　was　that　all？〃　said　Nicot。　　〃He　is　a　notable　inventor；　and

since；　when　we　met　last；　I　unmasked　his　delusions；　I　thought　he

might　retaliate　by　some　tale　of　slander。〃



〃Unmasked　his　delusions！how？〃



〃A　dull　and　long　story：　　he　wished　to　teach　an　old　doting　friend

of　mine　his　secrets　of　prolonged　life　and　philosophical　alchemy。

I　advise　thee　to　renounce　so　discreditable　an　acquaintance。〃



With　that　Nicot　nodded　significantly；　and；　not　wishing　to　be

further　questioned；　went　his　way。



Glyndon's　mind　at　that　moment　had　escaped　to　his　art；　and　the

comments　and　presence　of　Nicot　had　been　no　welcome　interruption。

He　turned　from　the　landscape　of　Salvator；　and　his　eye　falling　on

a　Nativity　by　Coreggio；　the　contrast　between　the　two　ranks　of

genius　struck　him　as　a　discovery。　　That　exquisite　repose；　that

perfect　sense　of　beauty；　that　strength　without　effort；　that

breathing　moral　of　high　art；　which　speaks　to　the　mind　through　the

eye；　and　raises　the　thoughts；　by　the　aid　of　tenderness　and　love；

to　the　regions　of　awe　and　wonder；ay！　THAT　was　the　true　school。

He　quitted　the　gallery　with　reluctant　steps　and　inspired　ideas；

he　sought　his　own　home。　　Here；　pleased　not　to　find　the　sober

Mervale；　he　leaned　his　face　on　his　hands；　and　endeavoured　to

recall　the　words　of　Zanoni　in　their　last　meeting。　　Yes；　he　felt

Nicot's　talk　even　on　art　was　crime；　it　debased　the　imagination

itself　to　mechanism。　　Could　he；　who　saw　nothing　in　the　soul　but　a

combination　of　matter；　prate　of　schools　that　should　excel　a

Raphael？　　Yes；　art　was　magic；　and　as　he　owned　the　truth　of　the

aphorism；　he　could　comprehend　that　in　magic　there　may　be

religion；　for　religion　is　an　essential　to　art。　　His　old　ambition；

freeing　itself　from　the　frigid　prudence　with　which　Mervale　sought

to　desecrate　all　images　less　substantial　than　the　golden　calf　of

the　world；　revived；　and　stirred；　and　kindled。　　The　subtle

detection　of　what　he　conceived　to　be　an　error　in　the　school　he

had　hitherto　adopted；　made　more　manifest　to　him　by　the　grinning

commentary　of　Nicot；　seemed　to　open　to　him　a　new　world　of

invention。　　He　seized　the　happy　moment；he　placed　before　him　the

colours　and　the　canvas。　　Lost　in　his　conceptions　of　a　fresh

ideal；　his　mind　was　lifted　aloft　into　the　airy　realms　of　beauty；

dark　thoughts；　unhallowed　desires；　vanished。　　Zanoni　was　right：

the　material　world　shrunk　from　his　gaze；　he　viewed　Nature　as　from

a　mountain…top　afar；　and　as　the　waves　of　his　unquiet　heart　became

calm　and　still；　again　the　angel　eyes　of　Viola　beamed　on　them　as　a

holy　star。



Locking　himself　in　his　chamber；　he　refused　even　the　visits　of

Mervale。　　Intoxicated　with　the　pure　air　of　his　fresh　existence；

he　remained　for　three　days；　and　almost　nights；　absorbed　in　his

employment；　but　on　the　fourth　morning　came　that　reaction　to　which

all　labour　is　exposed。　　He　woke　listless　and　fatigued；　and　as　he

cast　his　eyes　on　the　canvas；　the　glory　seemed　to　have　gone　from

it。　　Humiliating　recollections　of　the　great　masters　he　aspired　to

rival　forced　themselves　upon　him；　defects　before　unseen　magnified

themselves　to　deformities　in　his　languid　and　discontented　eyes。

He