未来千年文学备忘录_卡尔维诺-第23章

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〃what　a　glorious　giorgione！〃　he　cried。

〃no；〃　said　his　host；　〃it　is　an　early　daub　of　mine〃

〃gramercy！　i　am　in　the　abode　of　the　god　of　painting；　it　seems！〃　cried　poussin　ingenuously。

the　old　man　smiled　as　if　he　had　long　grown　familiar　with　such　praise。

〃master　frenhofer！〃　said　porbus；　〃do　you　think　you　could　spare　me　a　little　of　your　capital　rhine　wine？〃

〃a　couple　of　pipes！〃　answered　his　host；　〃one　to　discharge　a　debt；　for　the　pleasure　of　seeing　your　pretty　sinner；　the　other　as　a　present　from　a　friend。〃

〃ah！　if　i　had　my　health；〃　returned　porbus；　〃and　if　you　would　but　let　me　see　your　belle　noiseuse；　i　would　paint　some　great　picture；　with　breadth　in　it　and　depth；　the　figures　should　be　life…size。〃

〃let　you　see　my　work！〃　cried　the　painter　in　agitation。　〃no；　no！　it　is　not　perfect　yet；　something　still　remains　for　me　to　do。　yesterday；　in　the　dusk；〃　he　said；　〃i　thought　i　had　reached　the　end。　her　eyes　seemed　moist；　the　flesh　quivered；　something　stirred　the　tresses　of　her　hair。　she　breathed！　but　though　i　have　succeeded　in　reproducing　natures　roundness　and　relief　on　the　flat　surface　of　the　canvas；　this　morning；　by　daylight；　i　found　out　my　mistake。　ah！　to　achieve　that　glorious　result　i　have　studied　the　works　of　the　great　masters　of　color；　stripping　off　coat　after　coat　of　color　from　titians　canvas；　analyzing　the　pigments　of　the　king　of　light。　like　that　sovereign　painter；　i　began　the　face　in　a　slight　tone　with　a　supple　and　fat　pastefor　shadow　is　but　an　accident；　bear　that　in　mind；　youngster！then　i　began　afresh；　and　by　half…tones　and　thin　glazes　of　color　less　and　less　transparent；　i　gradually　deepened　the　tints　to　the　deepest　black　of　the　strongest　shadows。　an　ordinary　painter　makes　his　shadows　something　entirely　different　in　nature　from　the　high　lights；　they　are　wood　or　brass；　or　what　you　will；　anything　but　flesh　in　shadow。　you　feel　that　even　if　those　figures　were　to　alter　their　position；　those　shadow　stains　would　never　be　cleansed　away；　those　parts　of　the　picture　would　never　glow　with　light。

〃i　have　escaped　one　mistake；　into　which　the　most　famous　painters　have　sometimes　fallen；　in　my　canvas　the　whiteness　shines　through　the　densest　and　most　persistent　shadow。　i　have　not　marked　out　the　limits　of　my　figure　in　hard；　dry　outlines；　and　brought　every　least　anatomical　detail　into　prominence　（like　a　host　of　dunces；　who　fancy　that　they　can　draw　because　they　can　trace　a　line　elaborately　smooth　and　clean）；　for　the　human　body　is　not　contained　within　the　limits　of　line。　in　this　the　sculptor　can　approach　the　truth　more　nearly　than　we　painters。　natures　way　is　a　plicated　succession　of　curve　within　curve。　strictly　speaking；　there　is　no　such　thing　as　drawing。do　not　laugh；　young　man；　strange　as　that　speech　may　seem　to　you；　you　will　understand　the　truth　in　it　some　day。a　line　is　a　method　of　expressing　the　effect　of　light　upon　an　object；　but　there　are　no　lines　in　nature；　everything　is　solid。　we　draw　by　modeling；　that　is　to　say；　that　we　disengage　an　object　from　its　setting；　the　distribution　of　the　light　alone　gives　to　a　body　the　appearance　by　which　we　know　it。　so　i　have　not　defined　the　outlines；　i　have　suffused　them　with　a　haze　of　half…tints　warm　or　golden；　in　such　a　sort　that　you　can　not　lay　your　finger　on　the　exact　spot　where　background　and　contours　meet。　seen　from　near；　the　picture　looks　a　blur；　it　seems　to　lack　definition；　but　step　back　two　paces；　and　the　whole　thing　bees　clear；　distinct；　and　solid；　the　body　stands　out；　the　rounded　form　es　into　relief；　you　feel　that　the　air　plays　round　it。　and　yeti　am　not　satisfied；　i　have　misgivings。　perhaps　one　ought　not　to　draw　a　single　line；　perhaps　it　would　be　better　to　attack　the　face　from　the　centre；　taking　the　highest　prominences　first；　proceeding　from　them　through　the　whole　range　of　shadows　to　the　heaviest　of　all。　is　not　this　the　method　of　the　sun；　the　divine　painter　of　the　world？　oh；　nature；　nature！　who　has　surprised　thee；　fugitive？　but；　after　all；　too　much　knowledge；　like　ignorance；　brings　you　to　a　negation。　i　have　doubts　about　my　work。〃

there　was　a　pause。　then　the　old　man　spoke　again。　〃i　have　been　at　work　upon　it　for　ten　years；　young　man；　but　what　are　ten　short　years　in　a　struggle　with　nature？　do　we　know　how　long　sir　pygmalion　wrought　at　the　one　statue　that　came　to　life？〃　the　old　man　fell　into　deep　musings；　and　gazed　before　him　with　unseeing　eyes；　while　he　played　unheedingly　with　his　knife。

〃look；　he　is　in　conversation　with　his　_domon！_〃　murmured　porbus。

at　the　word；　nicolas　poussin　felt　himself　carried　away　by　an　unaccountable　accession　of　artists　curiosity。　for　him　the　old　man；　at　once　intent　and　inert；　the　seer　with　the　unseeing　eyes；　became　something　more　than　a　mana　fantastic　spirit　living　in　a　mysterious　world；　and　countless　vague　thoughts　awoke　within　his　soul。　the　effect　of　this　species　of　fascination　upon　his　mind　can　no　more　be　described　in　words　than　the　passionate　longing　awakened　in　an　exiles　heart　by　the　song　that　recalls　his　home。　he　thought　of　the　scorn　that　the　old　man　affected　to　display　for　the　noblest　efforts　of　art；　of　his　wealth；　his　manners；　of　the　deference　paid　to　him　by　porbus。　the　mysterious　picture；　the　work　of　patience　on　which　he　had　wrought　so　long　in　secret；　was　doubtless　a　work　of　genius；　for　the　head　of　the　virgin　which　young　poussin　had　admired　so　frankly　was　beautiful　even　beside　mabuses　〃adam〃there　was　no　mistaking　the　imperial　manner　of　one　of　the　princes　of　art。　everything　bined　to　set　the　old　man　beyond　the　limits　of　human　nature。

out　of　the　wealth　of　fancies　in　nicolas　poussins　brain　an　idea　grew；　and　gathered　shape　and　clearness。　he　saw　in　this　supernatural　being　a　plete　type　of　the　artist　nature；　a　nature　mocking　and　kindly；　barren　and　prolific；　an　erratic　spirit　intrusted　with　great　and　manifold　powers　which　she　too　often　abuses；　leading　sober　reason；　the　philistine；　and　sometimes　even　the　amateur　forth　into　a　stony　wilderness　where　they　see　nothing；　but　the　white…winged　maiden　herself；　wild　as　her　fancies　may　be；　finds　epics　there　and　castles　and　works　of　art。　for　poussin；　the　enthusiast；　the　old　man；　was　suddenly　transfigured；　and　became　art　incarnate；　art　with　its　mysteries；　its　vehement　passion　and　its　dreams。

〃yes；　my　dear　porbus；〃　frenhofer　continued；　〃hitherto　i　have　never　found　a　flawless　model；　a　body　with　outlines　of　perfect　beauty；　the　carnationsah！　where　does　she　live？〃　he　cried；　breaking　in　upon　himself；　〃the　undiscoverable　venus　of　the　older　time；　for　whom　we　have　sought　so　often；　only　to　find　the　scattered　gleams　of　her　beauty　here　and　there？　oh！　to　behold　once　and　for　one　moment；　nature　grown　perfect　and　divine；　the　ideal　at　last；　i　would　give　all　that　i　possess。。。。　nay；　beauty　divine；　i　would　go　to　seek　thee　in　the　dim　land　of　the　dead；　like　orpheus；　i　would　go　down　into　the　hades　of　art　to　bring　back　the　life　of　art　from　among　the　shadows　of　death。〃

〃we　can　go　now；〃　said　porbus　to　poussin。　〃he　neither　hears　nor　sees　us　any　longer。〃

〃let　us　go　to　his　studio；〃　said　young　poussin；　wondering　greatly。

〃oh！　the　old　fox　takes　care　that　no　one　shall　enter　it。　his　treasures　are　so　carefully　guarded　that　it　is　impossible　for　us　to　e　at　them。　i　have　not　waited　for　your　suggestion　and　your　fancy　to　attempt　to　lay　hands　on　this　mystery　by　force。〃

〃so　there　is　a　mystery？〃　〃yes；〃　answered　porbus。　〃old　frenhofer　is　the　only　pupil　mabuse　would　take。　frenhofer　became　the　painters　friend；　deliverer；　and　father；　he　sacrificed　the　greater　part　of　his　fortune　to　enable　mabuse　to　indulge　in　riotous　extravagance；　and　in　return　mabuse　bequeathed　to　him　the　secret　of　relief；　the　power　of　giving　to　his　figures　the　wonderful　life；　the　flower　of　nature；　the　eternal　despair　of　art；　the　secret　which　ma…buse　knew　so　well　that　one　day　when　he　had　sold　the　flowered　brocade　suit　in　which　he　should　have　appeared　at　the　entry　of　charles　v；　he　acpanied　his　master　in　a　suit　of　paper　painted　to　resemble　the　brocade。　the　peculiar　richness　and　splendor　of　the　stuff　struck　the　emperor；　he　plimented　the　old　drunkards　patron　on　the　artists　appearance；　and　so　the　trick　was　brought　to　light。　frenhofer　is　a　passionate　enthusiast；　who　sees　above　and　beyond　other　painters。　he　has　meditated　profoundly　on　color；　and　the　absolute　truth　of　line；　but　by　the　way　of