lavengro- 第52部分

friend　of　the　painter　that　we　were　permitted　to　pass　the　threshold。　　

At　length　we　were　shown　into　the　studio；　where　we　found　the　

painter；　with　an　easel　and　brush；　standing　before　a　huge　piece　of　

canvas；　on　which　he　had　lately　commenced　painting　a　heroic　picture。　　

The　painter　might　be　about　thirty…five　years　old；　he　had　a　clever；　

intelligent　countenance；　with　a　sharp　gray　eye　…　his　hair　was　dark　

brown；　and　cut　a…la…Rafael；　as　I　was　subsequently　told；　that　is；　

there　was　little　before　and　much　behind　…　he　did　not　wear　a　neck…

cloth；　but；　in　its　stead；　a　black　riband；　so　that　his　neck；　which　

was　rather　fine；　was　somewhat　exposed　…　he　had　a　broad；　muscular　

breast；　and　I　make　no　doubt　that　he　would　have　been　a　very　fine　

figure；　but　unfortunately　his　legs　and　thighs　were　somewhat　short。　　

He　recognised　my　brother；　and　appeared　glad　to　see　him。



'What　brings　you　to　London？'　said　he。



Whereupon　my　brother　gave　him　a　brief　account　of　his　commission。　　

At　the　mention　of　the　hundred　pounds；　I　observed　the　eyes　of　the　

painter　glisten。　　'Really；'　said　he；　when　my　brother　had　concluded；　

'it　was　very　kind　to　think　of　me。　　I　am　not　very　fond　of　painting　

portraits；　but　a　mayor　is　a　mayor；　and　there　is　something　grand　in　

that　idea　of　the　Norman　arch。　　I'll　go；　moreover；　I　am　just　at　this　

moment　confoundedly　in　need　of　money；　and　when　you　knocked　at　the　

door；　I　don't　mind　telling　you；　I　thought　it　was　some　dun。　　I　don't　

know　how　it　is；　but　in　the　capital　they　have　no　taste　for　the　

heroic；　they　will　scarce　look　at　a　heroic　picture；　I　am　glad　to　

hear　that　they　have　better　taste　in　the　provinces。　　I'll　go；　when　

shall　we　set　off？'



Thereupon　it　was　arranged　between　the　painter　and　my　brother　that　

they　should　depart　the　next　day　but　one；　they　then　began　to　talk　of　

art。　　'I'll　stick　to　the　heroic；'　said　the　painter；　'I　now　and　then　

dabble　in　the　comic；　but　what　I　do　gives　me　no　pleasure；　the　comic　

is　so　low；　there　is　nothing　like　the　heroic。　　I　am　engaged　here　on　

a　heroic　picture；'　said　he；　pointing　to　the　canvas；　'the　subject　is　

〃Pharaoh　dismissing　Moses　from　Egypt；〃　after　the　last　plague　…　the　

death　of　the　first…born；　it　is　not　far　advanced　…　that　finished　

figure　is　Moses'：　　they　both　looked　at　the　canvas；　and　I；　standing　

behind；　took　a　modest　peep。　　The　picture；　as　the　painter　said；　was　

not　far　advanced；　the　Pharaoh　was　merely　in　outline；　my　eye　was；　of　

course；　attracted　by　the　finished　figure；　or　rather　what　the　

painter　had　called　the　finished　figure；　but；　as　I　gazed　upon　it；　it　

appeared　to　me　that　there　was　something　defective　…　something　

unsatisfactory　in　the　figure。　　I　concluded；　however；　that　the　

painter；　notwithstanding　what　he　had　said；　had　omitted　to　give　it　

the　finishing　touch。　　'I　intend　this　to　be　my　best　picture；'　said　

the　painter；　'what　I　want　now　is　a　face　for　Pharaoh；　I　have　long　

been　meditating　on　a　face　for　Pharaoh。'　　Here；　chancing　to　cast　his　

eye　upon　my　countenance；　of　whom　he　had　scarcely　taken　any　manner　

of　notice；　he　remained　with　his　mouth　open　for　some　time。　　'Who　is　

this？'　said　he　at　last。　　'Oh；　this　is　my　brother；　I　forgot　to　

introduce　him。'　。　。　。



We　presently　afterwards　departed；　my　brother　talked　much　about　the　

painter。　　'He　is　a　noble　fellow；'　said　my　brother；　'but；　like　many　

other　noble　fellows；　has　a　great　many　enemies；　he　is　hated　by　his　

brethren　of　the　brush　…　all　the　land　and　water　scape　painters　hate　

him　…　but；　above　all；　the　race　of　portrait…painters；　who　are　ten　

times　more　numerous　than　the　other　two　sorts；　detest　him　for　his　

heroic　tendencies。　　It　will　be　a　kind　of　triumph　to　the　last；　I　

fear；　when　they　hear　he　has　condescended　to　paint　a　portrait；　

however；　that　Norman　arch　will　enable　him　to　escape　from　their　

malice　…　that　is　a　capital　idea　of　the　watchmaker；　that　Norman　

arch。'



I　spent　a　happy　day　with　my　brother。　　On　the　morrow　he　went　again　

to　the　painter；　with　whom　he　dined；　I　did　not　go　with　him。　　On　his　

return　he　said；　'The　painter　has　been　asking　a　great　many　questions　

about　you；　and　expressed　a　wish　that　you　would　sit　to　him　as　

Pharaoh；　he　thinks　you　would　make　a　capital　Pharaoh。'　　'I　have　no　

wish　to　appear　on　canvas；'　said　I；　'moreover　he　can　find　much　

better　Pharaohs　than　myself；　and；　if　he　wants　a　real　Pharaoh；　there　

is　a　certain　Mr。　Petulengro。'　　'Petulengro？'　said　my　brother；　'a　

strange　kind　of　fellow　came　up　to　me　some　time　ago　in　our　town；　and　

asked　me　about　you；　when　I　inquired　his　name；　he　told　me　

Petulengro。　　No；　he　will　not　do；　he　is　too　short；　by　the　bye；　do　

you　not　think　that　figure　of　Moses　is　somewhat　short？'　　And　then　it　

appeared　to　me　that　I　had　thought　the　figure　of　Moses　somewhat　

short；　and　I　told　my　brother　so。　　'Ah！'　said　my　brother。



On　the　morrow　my　brother　departed　with　the　painter　for　the　old　

town；　and　there　the　painter　painted　the　mayor。　　I　did　not　see　the　

picture　for　a　great　many　years；　when；　chancing　to　be　at　the　old　

town；　I　beheld　it。



The　original　mayor　was　a　mighty；　portly　man；　with　a　bull's　head；　

black　hair；　body　like　that　of　a　dray　horse；　and　legs　and　thighs　

corresponding；　a　man　six　foot　high　at　the　least。　　To　his　bull's　

head；　black　hair；　and　body　the　painter　had　done　justice；　there　was　

one　point；　however；　in　which　the　portrait　did　not　correspond　with　

the　original　…　the　legs　were　disproportionably　short；　the　painter　

having　substituted　his　own　legs　for　those　of　the　mayor；　which　when　

I　perceived　I　rejoiced　that　I　had　not　consented　to　be　painted　as　

Pharaoh；　for；　if　I　had；　the　chances　are　that　he　would　have　served　

me　in　exactly　a　similar　way　as　he　had　served　Moses　and　the　mayor。



Short　legs　in　a　heroic　picture　will　never　do；　and；　upon　the　whole；　

I　think　the　painter's　attempt　at　the　heroic　in　painting　the　mayor　

of　the　old　town　a　decided　failure。　　If　I　am　now　asked　whether　the　

picture　would　have　been　a　heroic　one　provided　the　painter　had　not　

substituted　his　own　legs　for　those　of　the　mayor　…　I　must　say；　I　am　

afraid　not。　　I　have　no　idea　of　making　heroic　pictures　out　of　

English　mayors；　even　with　the　assistance　of　Norman　arches；　yet　I　am　

sure　that　capital　pictures　might　be　made　out　of　English　mayors；　not　

issuing　from　Norman　arches；　but　rather　from　the　door　of　the　

'Checquers'　or　the　'Brewers　Three。'　　The　painter　in　question　had　

great　comic　power；　which　he　scarcely　ever　cultivated；　he　would　fain　

be　a　Rafael；　which　he　never　could　be；　when　he　might　have　been　

something　quite　as　good　…　another　Hogarth；　the　only　comic　piece　

which　he　ever　presented　to　the　world　being　something　little　

inferior　to　the　best　of　that　illustrious　master。　　I　have　often　

thought　what　a　capital　picture　might　have　been　made　by　my　brother's　

friend；　if；　instead　of　making　the　mayor　issue　out　of　the　Norman　

arch；　he　had　painted　him　moving　under　the　sign　of　the　'Checquers；'　

or　the　'Three　Brewers；'　with　mace　…　yes；　with　mace；　…　the　mace　

appears　in　the　picture　issuing　out　of　the　Norman　arch　behind　the　

mayor；　…　but　likewise　with　Snap；　and　with　whiffler；　quart　pot；　and　

frying…pan；　Billy　Blind　and　Owlenglass；　Mr。　Petulengro　and　

Pakomovna；　…　then；　had　he　clapped　his　own　legs　upon　the　mayor；　or　

any　one　else　in　the　concourse；　what　matter？　　But　I　repeat　that　I　

have　no　hope　of　making　heroic　pictures　out　of　English　mayors；　or；　

indeed；　out　of　English　figures　in　general。　　England　may　be　a　land　

of　heroic　hearts；　but　it　is　not；　properly；　a　land　of　heroic　

figures；　or　heroic　posture…making。　　Italy　。　。　。　what　was　I　going　to　

say　about　Italy？







CHAPTER　XXXIX







No　authority　whatever　…　Interference　…　Wondrous　farrago　…　Brandt　

and　Struensee　…　What　a　life！　…　The　hearse　…　Mortal　relics　…　Great　

poet　…　Fashion　and　fame　…　What　a　difference　…　Oh；　beautiful　…　Good　

for　nothing。



AND　now　once　more　to　my　pursuits；　to　my　Lives　and　Trials。　　However　

partial　at　first　I　might　be　to　these　lives　and　trials；　it　was　not　

long　before　they　became　regular　trials　to　me；　owing　to　the　whims　

and　caprices　of　the　publisher。　　I　had　not　been　long　connected　with　

him　before　I　discovered　that　he　was　wonderfully　fond　of　interfering　

with　other　people's　business　…　at　least　with　the　business　of　those　

who　were　under　his　control。　　What　a　life　did　his　unfortunate　

authors　lead！　　He　had　many　in　his　employ　toiling　at　all　kinds　of　

subjects　…　I　call　them　authors　because　there　is　something　

respectable　in　the　term　author；　though　they　had　little　authorship　

in；　and　no　authority　whatever　over；　the　works　on　which　they　were　

engaged。　　It　is　true　the　publisher　interfered　with　some　colour　of　

reason；　the　plan　of　all　and　every　of　the　works　alluded　to　having　

originated　with　himself；　and；　be　it　observed；　many　of　his　plans　

were　highly　clever　and　promising；　for；　as　I　have　already　had　

occasion　to　say；　the　publisher　in　many　points　was　a　highly　clever　

and　sagacious　person；　but　he　ought　to　have　been　contented　with　

planning　the　works　originally；　and　have　left　to　other　people　the　

task　of　executing　them；　instead　of　which　he　marred　everything　by　

his　rage　for　interference。　　If　a　book　of　fairy　tales　was　being　

compiled；　he　was　sure　to　introduce　some　of　his　philosophy；　

explaining　the　fairy　tale　by　some　theory　of　his　own。　　Was　a　book　of　

anecdotes　on　hand；　it　was　sure　to　be　half　filled　with　sayings　and　

doings　of　himself　during　the　time　that　he　was　common　councilman　of　

the　City　of　London。　　Now；　however　fond　the　public　might　be　of　fairy　

tales；　it　by　no　means　relished　them　in　conjunction　with　the　

publisher's　philosophy；　and　however　fond　of　anecdotes　in　general；　

or　even　of　the　publisher　in　particular　…　for　indeed　there　were　a　

great　many　anecdotes　in　circulation　about　him　which　the　public　both　

read　and　listened　to　very　readily　…　it　took　no　pleasure　in　such　

anecdotes　as　he　was　disposed　to　relate　about　himself。　　In　the　

compilation　of　my　Lives　and　Trials　I　was　exposed　to　incredible　

mortification；　and　c