The Gipsy: A Tale (Vols I & II). G. P. R. James

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СКАЧАТЬ however, contenting themselves with thinking that Isadore might, some time, learn the secret of finding out new beauties in a view; and De Vaux answered in his own style, "Still, Isadore, I know nothing about pictures, depend upon it. I cannot talk of breadth, and handling and chiar' oscuro, and juice, and ordonnance."

      "Except when you mean a park of artillery, De Vaux," said Colonel Manners; "but, if I understand you rightly, you can see and feel the beauties of a picture as well as any one, though you cannot talk the jargon of a connoisseur about it."

      "Perhaps that is what I do mean," answered his friend; "but I believe the truth is, Manners, that you and I are both far behind in the elegant charlatanism of dilettanteship. Why, I have heard a man go on by the hour with the copia fandi of a Cicero about a picture, the beauties of which he no more understood than the frame in which it was placed. These men's minds are like a yard measure, a thing on which a multitude of figures are written down, without the slightest use till they are properly applied by some one else. When I am seeing anything fine, heaven deliver me from the proximity of a walking dictionary of technical terms!"

      "They are very useful things in their way, Edward," answered Isadore; "and only think, if these men can be so eloquent about things that they do not feel, solely upon the strength of their jargon, how much more eloquent you, who do feel them, would be, if you had the jargon too."

      She spoke jestingly; but De Vaux, whose spleen had been somewhat excited, answered quickly, "I do not know, Isadore--I do not know. I very often think that a great acquaintance with the jargon of art tends to destroy the feeling for it. I have heard of a great critic, who, on viewing the Apollo of Belvidere, declared that had the lip been a hair's breadth longer, the god would have been lost. This was all very connoisseurish and very true, no doubt; but, depend upon it, that man felt the beauties of the immortal statue a thousand times more, whose only exclamation on seeing it was, 'Good God!' I would rather have the fresh feelings of even ignorance itself than the tutored and mechanical taste that measures the cheek-bones of a Venus, gauges the depth of colour in a Claude, or feels the edges of a book instead of looking into the inside."

      "Yes, but consider, Edward," said Marian, who since she entered the room had been sitting silent at the breakfast-table, "it surely does not follow that because we understand a thing well, we lose our first and natural taste for it. If I could paint like Claude or Poussin, I surely should not take less pleasure in a beautiful landscape."

      "NO, Marian," exclaimed Miss Falkland, well knowing that De Vaux would not support his sarcasms very vigorously against his cousin, "no; but, depend upon it, no one who could paint like Claude or Poussin would talk like a connoisseur."

      "Perhaps," said Colonel Manners, "knowledge of all kinds may be like the fabled cup, whose influence entirely depended upon those who drank from it--to some it was death, to others immortal life; wisdom to some, and foolishness to others. And thus I should think a great acquaintance with any art, in some instances--where the taste was good and the mind was strong--would refine the taste and give humility to the mind, by showing what an unfathomable mine of undiscovered things every study presents; while in other cases--where the taste was null and the mind weak--the result would be the vanity of ill-digested knowledge, and an idle gabble of unmeaning terms."

      "And how often would the latter be the case when compared with the former?" said De Vaux. "Answer me, my dear colonel."

      "I am afraid, indeed, nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand," replied Colonel Manners: "and what, I must confess, is worse still, the proportion of those who would bow to the vanity of ill-digested knowledge, and give implicit credit to the gabble of unmeaning terms, would be still greater; while taste, and genius, and mind would be forced to content themselves with the poor thousandth part of those whom they addressed."

      "Then how is it, Colonel Manners," said Marian, "that we are told that what is really good has always ultimate success, notwithstanding this terrific array of folly against it?"

      "Because truth is permanent in its very essence; and falsehood--of every kind, as well false tastes as false statements--is evanescent," replied Colonel Manners. "Such is, I suppose, the broad reason; but, to examine it more curiously, we shall find the progress of the thing somewhat amusing: for even the ultimate establishment of truth and wisdom is, in a great measure, owing to the voice of the false and foolish. Here is a fine picture or a fine statue, of that chaste but not attractive kind which ensures the admiration of those who can feel beauty, but does not win the attention of the crowd. A man without taste sees a man of taste gazing at it; hears him praise its beauties; and, as there is nothing so servile or so vain as folly, instantly affects to perceive the beauties which he never saw, and goes forth to trumpet them as things of his own discovery. Others come to see, and, as one fool will never be outdone by another, each sings its praises in the same vociferous tone, each gains his little stock of self-complacency from praising what others praise, and the reputation of the thing is established."

      "Unless," said De Vaux, "one of the learned fools we were talking of should step in; and as his vanity is always of the pugnacious kind--the vanity that will lead, instead of being led--he of course condemns what others have been praising; declares that the statue has no contour--that the picture wants breadth, force, chiar' oscuro. All the others cry out that it is evident it does so; wonder they could have admired it; and poor patient merit is kicked back into the shade."

      "But still, the same process takes place again," rejoined Colonel Manners. "The learned fool and his generation die off; but still, the merit of the thing remains till some one again rescues it from oblivion, and its reputation is finally established."

      "Indeed, now, Colonel Manners," said Mrs. Falkland, "I think that you have admitted Marian's maxim with too little limitation. That what is really good may always have ultimate success, is true, undoubtedly, when spoken of transcendent merit or of superexcellent qualities; but this transcendent merit only appears once, perhaps, in a century; and the world shows that, in the great mass of worldly things, the every-day virtues, the every-day exertions, the every-day characters which surround us in this busy existence, virtue and merit are not always ultimately successful. The religious, the political, the scientific charlatan often carries all before him; while the man of modest talent and unassuming virtue plods on his way unnoticed, and dies forgotten. So much, indeed, is this the case, that do not we daily see that many a shrewd man of real talent feels obliged to mix a little charlatanism with his other qualities for the sake of ensuring success? If Marian had said that things which are intrinsically immortal--which have in themselves inherent permanence--must have ultimate success when they are really good, and condemnation when they are bad, I would have granted it at once; but in all lesser things--and the world is made up of them--I sincerely believe that success depends upon accident or impudence."

      Colonel Manners smiled, and abandoned, or at least modified, his theory, admitting that Mrs. Falkland was right; for he was one of those men who, having generally reason on their side, can be candid without fear. But there was also something more than this in his candour: it sprung from his heart--it was a part of his character; and though it may seem unnatural to the greater part of mankind, it is no less a fact, that he was so great a lover of truth that, when once he was convinced, he never dreamed of contending against his conviction. He therefore gave up the position, that merit would always be ultimately successful, limiting it according to Mrs. Falkland's showing.

      Isadore added, that she thought it must be so, and would be sorry to believe it otherwise, as the occasional separation of virtue and success in this world afforded to her mind one of the strongest corroborative assurances of a future state. De Vaux laughed at her, and called her a little philosopher, and the conversation branched off to other things.

      Breakfast is a meal at which one loves to linger. The daylight and the wide world have all, more or less, an idea of labour attached to them; and though that labour be of the СКАЧАТЬ