按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
culture that are regarded by many as true essentials。 He writes
about La Gioconda； and early French poets and the Italian
Renaissance。 He loves Greek gems； and Persian carpets； and
Elizabethan translations of CUPID AND PSYCHE； and the
HYPNEROTOMACHIA； and book…binding and early editions； and wide…
margined proofs。 He is keenly sensitive to the value of beautiful
surroundings； and never wearies of describing to us the rooms in
which he lived； or would have liked to live。 He had that curious
love of green； which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle
artistic temperament； and in nations is said to denote a laxity； if
not a decadence of morals。 Like Baudelaire he was extremely fond
of cats； and with Gautier； he was fascinated by that 'sweet marble
monster' of both sexes that we can still see at Florence and in the
Louvre。
There is of course much in his descriptions； and his suggestions
for decoration； that shows that he did not entirely free himself
from the false taste of his time。 But it is clear that he was one
of the first to recognise what is； indeed； the very keynote of
aesthetic eclecticism； I mean the true harmony of all really
beautiful things irrespective of age or place； of school or manner。
He saw that in decorating a room； which is to be； not a room for
show； but a room to live in； we should never aim at any
archaeological reconstruction of the past； nor burden ourselves
with any fanciful necessity for historical accuracy。 In this
artistic perception he was perfectly right。 All beautiful things
belong to the same age。
And so； in his own library； as he describes it； we find the
delicate fictile vase of the Greek； with its exquisitely painted
figures and the faint ＇Greek text which cannot be reproduced＇
finely traced upon its side； and behind it hangs an engraving of
the 'Delphic Sibyl' of Michael Angelo； or of the 'Pastoral' of
Giorgione。 Here is a bit of Florentine majolica； and here a rude
lamp from some old Roman tomb。 On the table lies a book of Hours；
'cased in a cover of solid silver gilt； wrought with quaint devices
and studded with small brilliants and rubies；' and close by it
'squats a little ugly monster； a Lar； perhaps； dug up in the sunny
fields of corn…bearing Sicily。' Some dark antique bronzes contrast
with the pale gleam of two noble CHRISTI CRUCIFIXI； one carved in
ivory； the other moulded in wax。' He has his trays of Tassie's
gems； his tiny Louis…Quatorze BONBONNIERE with a miniature by
Petitot； his highly prized 'brown…biscuit teapots； filagree…
worked；' his citron morocco letter…case； and his 'pomona…green'
chair。
One can fancy him lying there in the midst of his books and casts
and engravings； a true virtuoso； a subtle connoisseur； turning over
his fine collection of Mare Antonios； and his Turner's 'Liber
Studiorum；' of which he was a warm admirer； or examining with a
magnifier some of his antique gems and cameos； 'the head of
Alexander on an onyx of two strata；' or 'that superb ALTISSIMO
RELIEVO on cornelian； Jupiter AEgiochus。' He was always a great
amateur of engravings； and gives some very useful suggestions as to
the best means of forming a collection。 Indeed； while fully
appreciating modern art； he never lost sight of the importance of
reproductions of the great masterpieces of the past； and all that
he says about the value of plaster casts is quite admirable。
As an art…critic he concerned himself primarily with the complex
impressions produced by a work of art； and certainly the first step
in aesthetic criticism is to realise one's own impressions。 He
cared nothing for abstract discussions on the nature of the
Beautiful； and the historical method； which has since yielded such
rich fruit； did not belong to his day； but he never lost sight of
the great truth that Art's first appeal is neither to the intellect
nor to the emotions； but purely to the artistic temperament； and he
more than once points out that this temperament； this 'taste；' as
he calls it； being unconsciously guided and made perfect by
frequent contact with the best work； becomes in the end a form of
right judgment。 Of course there are fashions in art just as there
are fashions in dress； and perhaps none of us can ever quite free
ourselves from the influence of custom and the influence of
novelty。 He certainly could not； and he frankly acknowledges how
difficult it is to form any fair estimate of contemporary work。
But； on the whole； his taste was good and sound。 He admired Turner
and Constable at a time when they were not so much thought of as
they are now； and saw that for the highest landscape art we require
more than 'mere industry and accurate transcription。' Of Crome's
'Heath Scene near Norwich' he remarks that it shows 'how much a
subtle observation of the elements； in their wild moods； does for a
most uninteresting flat；' and of the popular type of landscape of
his day he says that it is 'simply an enumeration of hill and dale；
stumps of trees； shrubs； water； meadows； cottages and houses；
little more than topography； a kind of pictorial map…work； in which
rainbows； showers； mists； haloes； large beams shooting through
rifted clouds； storms； starlight； all the most valued materials of
the real painter； are not。' He had a thorough dislike of what is
obvious or commonplace in art； and while he was charmed to
entertain Wilkie at dinner； he cared as little for Sir David's
pictures as he did for Mr。 Crabbe's poems。 With the imitative and
realistic tendencies of his day he had no sympathy and he tells us
frankly that his great admiration for Fuseli was largely due to the
fact that the little Swiss did not consider it necessary that an
artist should paint only what he sees。 The qualities that he
sought for in a picture were composition； beauty and dignity of
line； richness of colour； and imaginative power。 Upon the other
hand； he was not a doctrinaire。 'I hold that no work of art can be
tried otherwise than by laws deduced from itself： whether or not
it be consistent with itself is the question。' This is one of his
excellent aphorisms。 And in criticising painters so different as
Landseer and Martin； Stothard and Etty； he shows that； to use a
phrase now classical； he is trying 'to see the object as in itself
it really is。'
However； as I pointed out before； he never feels quite at his ease
in his criticisms of contemporary work。 'The present；' he says；
'is about as agreeable a confusion to me as Ariosto on the first
perusal。 。 。 。 Modern things dazzle me。 I must look at them
through Time's telescope。 Elia complains that to him the merit of
a MS。 poem is uncertain； 〃print；〃 as he excellently says； 〃settles
it。〃 Fifty years' toning does the same thing to a picture。' He is
happier when he is writing about Watteau and Lancret； about Rubens
and Giorgione； about Rembrandt； Corregio； and Michael Angelo；
happiest of all when he is writing about Greek things。 What is
Gothic touched him very little； but classical art and the art of
the Renaissance were always dear to him。 He saw what our English
school could gain from a study of Greek models； and never wearies
of pointing out to the young student the artistic possibilities
that lie dormant in Hellenic marbles and Hellenic methods of work。
In his judgments on the great Italian Masters； says De Quincey；
'there seemed a tone of sincerity and of native sensibility； as in
one who spoke for himself； and was not merely a copier from books。'
The highest praise that we can give to him is that he tried to
revive style as a conscious tradition。 But he saw that no amount
of art lectures or art congresses； or 'plans for advancing the fine
arts；' will ever produce this result。 The people； he says very
wisely； and in the true spirit of Toynbee Hall； must always have
'the best models constantly before their eyes。'
As is to be expected from one who was a painter； he is often
extremely technical in his art criticisms。 Of Tintoret's 'St。
George delivering the Egyptian Princess from the Dragon；' he
remarks：…
The robe of Sabra； warmly glazed with Prussian blue； is relieved
from the pale greenish background by a vermilion scarf； and the
full hues of both are beautifully echoed； as it were； in a lower
key by the purple…lake coloured stuffs and bluish iron armour of
the saint； besides an ample balance to the vivid azure drapery on
the foreground in the indigo shades of the wild wood surrounding
the castle。
And elsewhere he talks learnedly of 'a delicate Schiavone； various
as a tulip…bed； with rich broken tints；' of 'a glowing portrait；
remarkable for MORBIDEZZA； by the scarce Moroni；' and of another
picture being 'pulpy in the carnations。'
But； as a rule； he deals with his impressions of the work as an
artistic whole； and tries to translate those impressions into
words； to give； as it were； the literary equivalent for the