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little travels and roadside sketches-第3部分
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early fifteenth century; in which it was begun。
This style of criticism is base and mean; and quite contrary to the
orders of the immortal Goethe; who was only for allowing the eye to
recognize the beauties of a great work; but would have its defects
passed over。 It is an unhappy; luckless organization which will be
perpetually fault…finding; and in the midst of a grand concert of
music will persist only in hearing that unfortunate fiddle out of
tune。
Withinexcept where the rococo architects have introduced their
ornaments (here is the fiddle out of tune again)the cathedral is
noble。 A rich; tender sunshine is streaming in through the
windows; and gilding the stately edifice with the purest light。
The admirable stained…glass windows are not too brilliant in their
colors。 The organ is playing a rich; solemn music; some two
hundred of people are listening to the service; and there is scarce
one of the women kneeling on her chair; enveloped in her full
majestic black drapery; that is not a fine study for a painter。
These large black mantles of heavy silk brought over the heads of
the women; and covering their persons; fall into such fine folds of
drapery; that they cannot help being picturesque and noble。 See;
kneeling by the side of two of those fine devout…looking figures;
is a lady in a little twiddling Parisian hat and feather; in a
little lace mantelet; in a tight gown and a bustle。 She is almost
as monstrous as yonder figure of the Virgin; in a hoop; and with a
huge crown and a ball and a sceptre; and a bambino dressed in a
little hoop; and in a little crown; round which are clustered
flowers and pots of orange…trees; and before which many of the
faithful are at prayer。 Gentle clouds of incense come wafting
through the vast edifice; and in the lulls of the music you hear
the faint chant of the priest; and the silver tinkle of the bell。
Six Englishmen; with the commissionaires; and the 〃Murray's Guide…
books〃 in their hands; are looking at the 〃Descent from the Cross。〃
Of this picture the 〃Guide…book〃 gives you orders how to judge。 If
it is the end of religious painting to express the religious
sentiment; a hundred of inferior pictures must rank before Rubens。
Who was ever piously affected by any picture of the master? He can
depict a livid thief writhing upon the cross; sometimes a blond
Magdalen weeping below it; but it is a Magdalen a very short time
indeed after her repentance: her yellow brocades and flaring satins
are still those which she wore when she was of the world; her body
has not yet lost the marks of the feasting and voluptuousness in
which she used to indulge; according to the legend。 Not one of the
Rubens's pictures among all the scores that decorate chapels and
churches here; has the least tendency to purify; to touch the
affections; or to awaken the feelings of religious respect and
wonder。 The 〃Descent from the Cross〃 is vast; gloomy; and awful;
but the awe inspired by it is; as I take it; altogether material。
He might have painted a picture of any criminal broken on the
wheel; and the sensation inspired by it would have been precisely
similar。 Nor in a religious picture do you want the savoir…faire
of the master to be always protruding itself; it detracts from the
feeling of reverence; just as the thumping of cushion and the
spouting of tawdry oratory does from a sermon: meek religion
disappears; shouldered out of the desk by the pompous; stalwart;
big…chested; fresh…colored; bushy…whiskered pulpiteer。 Rubens's
piety has always struck us as of this sort。 If he takes a pious
subject; it is to show you in what a fine way he; Peter Paul
Rubens; can treat it。 He never seems to doubt but that he is doing
it a great honor。 His 〃Descent from the Cross;〃 and its
accompanying wings and cover; are a set of puns upon the word
Christopher; of which the taste is more odious than that of the
hooped…petticoated Virgin yonder; with her artificial flowers; and
her rings and brooches。 The people who made an offering of that
hooped petticoat did their best; at any rate; they knew no better。
There is humility in that simple; quaint present; trustfulness and
kind intention。 Looking about at other altars; you see (much to
the horror of pious Protestants) all sorts of queer little emblems
hanging up under little pyramids of penny candles that are
sputtering and flaring there。 Here you have a silver arm; or a
little gold toe; or a wax leg; or a gilt eye; signifying and
commemorating cures that have been performed by the supposed
intercession of the saint over whose chapel they hang。 Well;
although they are abominable superstitions; yet these queer little
offerings seem to me to be a great deal more pious than Rubens's
big pictures; just as is the widow with her poor little mite
compared to the swelling Pharisee who flings his purse of gold into
the plate。
A couple of days of Rubens and his church pictures makes one
thoroughly and entirely sick of him。 His very genius and splendor
pails upon one; even taking the pictures as worldly pictures。 One
grows weary of being perpetually feasted with this rich; coarse;
steaming food。 Considering them as church pictures; I don't want
to go to church to hear; however splendid; an organ play the
〃British Grenadiers。〃
The Antwerpians have set up a clumsy bronze statue of their
divinity in a square of the town; and those who have not enough of
Rubens in the churches may study him; and indeed to much greater
advantage; in a good; well…lighted museum。 Here; there is one
picture; a dying saint taking the communion; a large piece ten or
eleven feet high; and painted in an incredibly short space of time;
which is extremely curious indeed for the painter's study。 The
picture is scarcely more than an immense magnificent sketch; but it
tells the secret of the artist's manner; which; in the midst of its
dash and splendor; is curiously methodical。 Where the shadows are
warm the lights are cold; and vice versa; and the picture has been
so rapidly painted; that the tints lie raw by the side of one
another; the artist not having taken the trouble to blend them。
There are two exquisite Vandykes (whatever Sir Joshua may say of
them); and in which the very management of the gray tones which the
President abuses forms the principal excellence and charm。 Why;
after all; are we not to have our opinion? Sir Joshua is not the
Pope。 The color of one of those Vandykes is as fine as FINE Paul
Veronese; and the sentiment beautifully tender and graceful。
I saw; too; an exhibition of the modern Belgian artists (1843); the
remembrance of whose pictures after a month's absence has almost
entirely vanished。 Wappers's hand; as I thought; seemed to have
grown old and feeble; Verboeckhoven's cattle…pieces are almost as
good as Paul Potter's; and Keyser has dwindled down into namby…
pamby prettiness; pitiful to see in the gallant young painter who
astonished the Louvre artists ten years ago by a hand almost as
dashing and ready as that of Rubens himself。 There were besides
many caricatures of the new German school; which are in themselves
caricatures of the masters before Raphael。
An instance of honesty may be mentioned here with applause。 The
writer lost a pocket…book containing a passport and a couple of
modest ten…pound notes。 The person who found the portfolio
ingeniously put it into the box of the post…office; and it was
faithfully restored to the owner; but somehow the two ten…pound
notes were absent。 It was; however; a great comfort to get the
passport; and the pocket…book; which must be worth about ninepence。
BRUSSELS。
It was night when we arrived by the railroad from Antwerp at
Brussels; the route is very pretty and interesting; and the flat
countries through which the road passes in the highest state of
peaceful; smiling cultivation。 The fields by the roadside are
enclosed by hedges as in England; the harvest was in part down; and
an English country gentleman who was of our party pronounced the
crops to be as fine as any he had ever seen。 Of this matter a
Cockney cannot judge accurately; but any man can see with what
extraordinary neatness and care all these little plots of ground
are tilled; and admire the richness and brilliancy of the
vegetation。 Outside of the moat of Antwerp; and at every village
by which we passed; it was pleasant to see the happy congregations
of well…clad people that basked in the evening sunshine; and
soberly smoked their pipes and drank their Flemish beer。 Men who
love this drink must; as I fancy; have something essentially
peaceful in their composition; and must be more easily satisfied
than folks on our side of the water。 The excitement of Flemish
beer is; indeed; not great。 I have tried both the white beer and
the brown; they are both of the kind which schoolboys denominate
〃swipes;〃 very sour and thin to the taste; but served; to be sure;
in quaint Flemish jugs that do not seem to have changed their form
since the days of Rubens; and must please the lovers of antiquarian
knick…knacks。 Numbers of comfortable…looking women and children
sat beside the head of the family upon the tavern…benches; and it
was amusing to see one little fellow of eight years old smoking;
with much gravity; his father's cigar。 How the worship of the
sacred plant of tobacco has spread through all Europe! I am sure
that the persons who cry out against the use of it are guilty of
superstition and unreason; and that it would be a proper and easy
task for scientific persons to write an encomium upon the weed。 In
solitude it is the pleasantest companion possible; and in company
never de trop。 To a student it suggests all sorts of agreeable
thoughts; it refreshes the brain when weary; and every sedentary
cigar…smoker will tell you how much good he has had from it; and
how he has been
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