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！
hers； her cares！ He was more communicative to his barbiton； as
the learned Mersennus teaches us to call all the varieties of the
great viol family。 Certainly barbiton sounds better than fiddle；
and barbiton let it be。 He would talk to THAT by the hour
together；praise it； scold it； coax it； nay （for such is man；
even the most guileless）； he had been known to swear at it； but
for that excess he was always penitentially remorseful。 And the
barbiton had a tongue of his own； could take his own part； and
when HE also scolded； had much the best of it。 He was a noble
fellow； this Violin！a Tyrolese； the handiwork of the
illustrious Steiner。 There was something mysterious in his great
age。 How many hands； now dust； had awakened his strings ere he
became the Robin Goodfellow and Familiar of Gaetano Pisani！ His
very case was venerable；beautifully painted； it was said； by
Caracci。 An English collector had offered more for the case than
Pisani had ever made by the violin。 But Pisani； who cared not if
he had inhabited a cabin himself； was proud of a palace for the
barbiton。 His barbiton； it was his elder child！ He had another
child； and now we must turn to her。
How shall I describe thee； Viola？ Certainly the music had
something to answer for in the advent of that young stranger。
For both in her form and her character you might have traced a
family likeness to that singular and spirit…like life of sound
which night after night threw itself in airy and goblin sport
over the starry seas。。。Beautiful she was； but of a very uncommon
beauty；a combination； a harmony of opposite attributes。 Her
hair of a gold richer and purer than that which is seen even in
the North； but the eyes； of all the dark； tender； subduing light
of more than Italianalmost of Orientalsplendour。 The
complexion exquisitely fair； but never the same；vivid in one
moment； pale the next。 And with the complexion； the expression
also varied； nothing now so sad； and nothing now so joyous。
I grieve to say that what we rightly entitle education was much
neglected for their daughter by this singular pair。 To be sure；
neither of them had much knowledge to bestow； and knowledge was
not then the fashion； as it is now。 But accident or nature
favoured young Viola。 She learned； as of course； her mother's
language with her father's。 And she contrived soon to read and
to write； and her mother； who； by the way； was a Roman Catholic；
taught her betimes to pray。 But then； to counteract all these
acquisitions； the strange habits of Pisani； and the incessant
watch and care which he required from his wife； often left the
child alone with an old nurse； who； to be sure； loved her dearly；
but who was in no way calculated to instruct her。
Dame Gionetta was every inch Italian and Neapolitan。 Her youth
had been all love； and her age was all superstition。 She was
garrulous； fond；a gossip。 Now she would prattle to the girl of
cavaliers and princes at her feet； and now she would freeze her
blood with tales and legends； perhaps as old as Greek or Etrurian
fable； of demon and vampire；of the dances round the great
walnut…tree at Benevento； and the haunting spell of the Evil Eye。
All this helped silently to weave charmed webs over Viola's
imagination that afterthought and later years might labour vainly
to dispel。 And all this especially fitted her to hang； with a
fearful joy； upon her father's music。 Those visionary strains；
ever struggling to translate into wild and broken sounds the
language of unearthly beings； breathed around her from her birth。
Thus you might have said that her whole mind was full of music；
associations； memories； sensations of pleasure or pain；all were
mixed up inexplicably with those sounds that now delighted and
now terrified； that greeted her when her eyes opened to the sun；
and woke her trembling on her lonely couch in the darkness of the
night。 The legends and tales of Gionetta only served to make the
child better understand the signification of those mysterious
tones； they furnished her with words to the music。 It was
natural that the daughter of such a parent should soon evince
some taste in his art。 But this developed itself chiefly in the
ear and the voice。 She was yet a child when she sang divinely。
A great Cardinalgreat alike in the State and the Conservatorio
heard of her gifts； and sent for her。 From that moment her
fate was decided： she was to be the future glory of Naples； the
prima donna of San Carlo。
The Cardinal insisted upon the accomplishment of his own
predictions； and provided her with the most renowned masters。 To
inspire her with emulation； his Eminence took her one evening to
his own box： it would be something to see the performance；
something more to hear the applause lavished upon the glittering
signoras she was hereafter to excel！ Oh； how gloriously that
life of the stage； that fairy world of music and song； dawned
upon her！ It was the only world that seemed to correspond with
her strange childish thoughts。 It appeared to her as if； cast
hitherto on a foreign shore； she was brought at last to see the
forms and hear the language of her native land。 Beautiful and
true enthusiasm； rich with the promise of genius！ Boy or man；
thou wilt never be a poet； if thou hast not felt the ideal； the
romance； the Calypso's isle that opened to thee when for the
first time the magic curtain was drawn aside； and let in the
world of poetry on the world of prose！
And now the initiation was begun。 She was to read； to study； to
depict by a gesture； a look； the passions she was to delineate on
the boards； lessons dangerous； in truth； to some； but not to the
pure enthusiasm that comes from art； for the mind that rightly
conceives art is but a mirror which gives back what is cast on
its surface faithfully onlywhile unsullied。 She seized on
nature and truth intuitively。 Her recitations became full of
unconscious power； her voice moved the heart to tears； or warmed
it into generous rage。 But this arose from that sympathy which
genius ever has； even in its earliest innocence； with whatever
feels； or aspires； or suffers。
It was no premature woman comprehending the love or the jealousy
that the words expressed； her art was one of those strange
secrets which the psychologists may unriddle to us if they
please； and tell us why children of the simplest minds and the
purest hearts are often so acute to distinguish； in the tales you
tell them； or the songs you sing； the difference between the true
art and the false； passion and jargon； Homer and Racine；echoing
back； from hearts that have not yet felt what they repeat； the
melodious accents of the natural pathos。 Apart from her studies；
Viola was a simple； affectionate； but somewhat wayward child；
wayward； not in temper； for that was sweet and docile； but in her
moods； which； as I before hinted； changed from sad to gay and gay
to sad without an apparent cause。 If cause there were； it must
be traced to the early and mysterious influences I have referred
to； when seeking to explain the effect produced on her
imagination by those restless streams of sound that constantly
played around it； for it is noticeable that to those who are much
alive to the effects of music； airs and tunes often come back； in
the commonest pursuits of life； to vex； as it were； and haunt
them。 The music； once admitted to the soul； becomes also a sort
of spirit； and never dies。 It wanders perturbedly through the
halls and galleries of the memory； and is often heard again；
distinct and living as when it first displaced the wavelets of
the air。 Now at times； then； these phantoms of sound floated
back upon her fancy； if gay； to call a smile from every dimple；
if mournful； to throw a shade upon her brow；to make her cease
from her childishmirth； and sit apart and muse。
Rightly； then； in a typical sense； might this fair creature； so
airy in her shape； so harmonious in her beauty； so unfamiliar in
her ways and thoughts；rightly might she be called a daughter；
less of the musician than the music； a being for whom you could
imagine that some fate was reserved； less of actual life than the
romance which； to eyes that can see； and hearts that can feel；
glides ever along WITH the actual life； stream by stream； to the
Dark Ocean。
And therefore it seemed not strange that Viola herself； even in
childhood； and yet more as she bloomed into the sweet seriousness
of virgin youth； should fancy her life ordained for a lot；
whether of bliss or woe； that should accord with the romance and
reverie which made the atmosphere she breathed。 Frequently she
would climb through the thickets that clothed the neighbouring
grotto of Posilipo；the mighty work of the old Cimmerians；and；
seated by the haunted Tomb of Virgil； indulge those visions； the
subtle vagueness of which no poetry can render palpable and
defined； for the Po