pen,pencil and poison- 第3部分

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

critical　touches　on　these；　like　one　inspired；　but　it　was　good　to

let　him　choose　his　own　game；　if　another　began　even　on　the

acknowledged　pets　he　was　liable　to　interrupt；　or　rather　append；　in

a　mode　difficult　to　define　whether　as　misapprehensive　or

mischievous。　　One　night　at　C…'s；　the　above　dramatic　partners　were

the　temporary　subject　of　chat。　　Mr。　X。　commended　the　passion　and

haughty　style　of　a　tragedy　（I　don't　know　which　of　them）；　but　was

instantly　taken　up　by　Elia；　who　told　him　'THAT　was　nothing；　the

lyrics　were　the　high　things　…　the　lyrics！'





One　side　of　his　literary　career　deserves　especial　notice。　　Modern

journalism　may　be　said　to　owe　almost　as　much　to　him　as　to　any　man

of　the　early　part　of　this　century。　　He　was　the　pioneer　of　Asiatic

prose；　and　delighted　in　pictorial　epithets　and　pompous

exaggerations。　　To　have　a　style　so　gorgeous　that　it　conceals　the

subject　is　one　of　the　highest　achievements　of　an　important　and　much

admired　school　of　Fleet　Street　leader…writers；　and　this　school

JANUS　WEATHERCOCK　may　be　said　to　have　invented。　　He　also　saw　that

it　was　quite　easy　by　continued　reiteration　to　make　the　public

interested　in　his　own　personality；　and　in　his　purely　journalistic

articles　this　extraordinary　young　man　tells　the　world　what　he　had

for　dinner；　where　he　gets　his　clothes；　what　wines　he　likes；　and　in

what　state　of　health　he　is；　just　as　if　he　were　writing　weekly　notes

for　some　popular　newspaper　of　our　own　time。　　This　being　the　least

valuable　side　of　his　work；　is　the　one　that　has　had　the　most　obvious

influence。　　A　publicist；　nowadays；　is　a　man　who　bores　the　community

with　the　details　of　the　illegalities　of　his　private　life。



Like　most　artificial　people；　he　had　a　great　love　of　nature。　　'I

hold　three　things　in　high　estimation；'　he　says　somewhere：　　'to　sit

lazily　on　an　eminence　that　commands　a　rich　prospect；　to　be　shadowed

by　thick　trees　while　the　sun　shines　around　me；　and　to　enjoy

solitude　with　the　consciousness　of　neighbourhood。　　The　country

gives　them　all　to　me。'　　He　writes　about　his　wandering　over　fragrant

furze　and　heath　repeating　Collins's　'Ode　to　Evening；'　just　to　catch

the　fine　quality　of　the　moment；　about　smothering　his　face　'in　a

watery　bed　of　cowslips；　wet　with　May　dews'；　and　about　the　pleasure

of　seeing　the　sweet…breathed　kine　'pass　slowly　homeward　through　the

twilight；'　and　hearing　'the　distant　clank　of　the　sheep…bell。'　　One

phrase　of　his；　'the　polyanthus　glowed　in　its　cold　bed　of　earth；

like　a　solitary　picture　of　Giorgione　on　a　dark　oaken　panel；'　is

curiously　characteristic　of　his　temperament；　and　this　passage　is

rather　pretty　in　its　way：…





The　short　tender　grass　was　covered　with　marguerites　…　'such　that

men　called　DAISIES　in　our　town'　…　thick　as　stars　on　a　summer's

night。　　The　harsh　caw　of　the　busy　rooks　came　pleasantly　mellowed

from　a　high　dusky　grove　of　elms　at　some　distance　off；　and　at

intervals　was　heard　the　voice　of　a　boy　scaring　away　the　birds　from

the　newly…sown　seeds。　　The　blue　depths　were　the　colour　of　the

da