We English, coming to Italy with our ideas fully9 formed about everything on heaven and earth, naturally say to ourselves, "Great heart alive, what sadly degraded frescoes! To think the art of Raphael and Andrea del Sarto should degenerate10 even here, in their own land, to such a childish level!" But we are wrong, for all that. It is Raphael and Andrea who rose, not my poor nameless Sasso artists who sank and degenerated11. Italy was capable of producing her great painters in her own great day, just because in thousands of such Italian villages there were work-a-day artisans in form and colour capable of turning out such ridiculous daubs as those that decorate this tawdry church on the Ligurian hilltop.
We English, in short, think of it all the wrong way uppermost. We think of it topsy-turvy, beginning at the end, while evolution invariably begins at the beginning. The Raphaels and Andreas, to put it in brief, were the final flower and fullest outcome of whole races of church decorators in infantile fresco5.
Everywhere you go in Italy, this truth is forced upon your attention even to the present day. Art here is no exotic. It smacks12 of the soil; it springs spontaneous, like a weed; it burgeons13 of itself out of the heart of the people. Not high art, understand well; not the art of Burne-Jones and Whistler and Puvis de Chavannes and Sar Peladan. Commonplace everyday art, that is a trade and a handicraft, like the joiner's or the shoemaker's. Look up at your ceiling; it's overrun with festoons of crude red and blue flowers, or it's covered with cupids and graces, or it bristles14 with arabesques15 and unmeaning phantasies. Every wall is painted; every grotto16 decorated. Sham17 landscapes, sham loggias, sham parapets are everywhere. The sham windows themselves are provided, not only with sham blinds and sham curtains, but even with sham coquettes making sham eyes or waving sham handkerchiefs at passers-by below them. Open-air fresco painting is still a living art, an art practised by hundreds and thousands of craftsmen18, an art as alive as cookery or weaving. The Italian decorates everything; his pottery19, his house, his church, his walls, his palaces. And the only difference he feels between the various cases is, that in some of them a higher type of art is demanded by wealth and skill than in the others. No wonder, therefore, he blossomed out at last into Michael Angelo's frescoes in the Sistine Chapel20!
To us English, on the contrary, high art is something exotic, separate, alone, sui generis. We never think of the plaster star in the middle of our ceiling as belonging even to the same range of ideas as, say, the frescoes in the Houses of Parliament.
A nation in such a condition as that is never truly artistic21. The artist with us, even now, is an exceptional product. Art for a long time in England had nothing at all to do with the life of the people. It was a luxury for the rich, a curious thing for ladies' and gentlemen's consumption, as purely22 artificial as the stuccoed Italian villa3 in which they insisted on shivering in our chilly23 climate. And the pictures it produced were wholly alien to the popular wants and the popular feelings; they were part of an imported French, Italian, and Flemish tradition. English art has only slowly outgrown24 this stage, just in proportion as truly artistic handicrafts have sprung up here and there, and developed themselves among us. Go into the Cantagalli or the Ginori potteries25 at Florence, and you will see mere26 boys and girls, untrained children of the people, positively27 disporting28 themselves, with childish glee, in painting plates and vases. You will see them, not slavishly copying a given design of the master's, but letting their fancy run riot in lithe29 curves and lines, in griffons and dragons and floral twists-and-twirls of playful extravagance. They revel30 in ornament31. Now, it is out of the loins of people like these that great artists spring by nature—not State-taught, artificial, made-up artists, but the real spontaneous product, the Lippi and Botticelli, the hereditary32 craftsmen, the born painters. And in England nowadays it is a significant fact that a large proportion of the truest artists—the innovators, the men who are working out a new style of English art for themselves, in accordance with the underlying33 genius of the British temperament34, have sprung from the great industrial towns—Birmingham, Manchester, Leicester—where artistic handicrafts are now once more renascent35. I won't expose myself to further ridicule36 by repeating here (what I nevertheless would firmly believe, were it not for the scoffers) that a large proportion of them are of Celtic descent—belong, in other words, to that section of the complex British nationality in which the noble traditions of decorative37 art never wholly died out—that section which was never altogether enslaved and degraded by the levelling and cramping38 and soul-destroying influences of manufacturing industrialism.
In Italy, art is endemic. In England, in spite of all we have done to stimulate39 it of late years with guano and other artificial manures, it is still sporadic40.
The case of music affords us an apt parallel. Till very lately, I believe, our musical talent in Britain came almost entirely41 from the cathedral towns. And why? Because there, and there alone, till quite a recent date, there existed a hereditary school of music, a training of musicians from generation to generation among the mass of the people. Not only were the cathedral services themselves a constant school of taste in music, but successive generations of choristers and organists gave rise to something like a musical caste in our episcopal centres. It is true, our vocalists have always come mainly from Wales, from the Scotch43 Highlands, from Yorkshire, from Ireland. But for that there is, I believe, a sufficient physical reason. For these are clearly the most mountainous parts of the United Kingdom; and the clear mountain air seems to produce on the average a better type of human larynx than the mists of the level. The men of the lowland, say the Tyrolese, croak44 like frogs in their marshes45; but the men of the upland sing like nightingales on their tree-tops. And indeed, it would seem as if the mountain people were always calling to one another across intervening valleys, always singing and whistling and shouting over their work in a way that gives tone to the whole vocal42 mechanism46. Witness Welsh penillion singing. And wherever this fine physical endowment goes hand in hand with a delicate ear and a poetic47 temperament, you get your great vocalist, your Sims Reeves or your Patti. But in England proper it was only in the cathedral towns that music was a living reality to the people; and it was in the cathedral towns, accordingly, during the dark ages of art, that exceptional musical ability was most likely to show itself. More particularly was this so on the Welsh border, where the two favouring influences of race and practice coincided—at Gloucester, Worcester, Hereford, long known for the most musical towns in England.
Cause and effect act and react. Art is a product of the artistic temperament. The artistic temperament is a product of the long hereditary cultivation48 of art. And where a broad basis of this temperament exists among the people, owing to intermixture of artistically-minded stocks, one is liable to get from time to time that peculiar49 combination of characteristics—sensuous, intellectual, spiritual—which results in the highest and truest artist.
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1 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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2 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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3 villa | |
n.别墅,城郊小屋 | |
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4 picturesquely | |
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5 fresco | |
n.壁画;vt.作壁画于 | |
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6 frescoes | |
n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 );温壁画技法,湿壁画 | |
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7 gorge | |
n.咽喉,胃,暴食,山峡;v.塞饱,狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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8 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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9 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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10 degenerate | |
v.退步,堕落;adj.退步的,堕落的;n.堕落者 | |
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11 degenerated | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 smacks | |
掌掴(声)( smack的名词复数 ); 海洛因; (打的)一拳; 打巴掌 | |
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13 burgeons | |
v.发芽,抽枝( burgeon的第三人称单数 );迅速发展;发(芽),抽(枝) | |
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14 bristles | |
短而硬的毛发,刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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15 arabesques | |
n.阿拉伯式花饰( arabesque的名词复数 );错综图饰;阿拉伯图案;阿拉贝斯克芭蕾舞姿(独脚站立,手前伸,另一脚一手向后伸) | |
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16 grotto | |
n.洞穴 | |
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17 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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18 craftsmen | |
n. 技工 | |
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19 pottery | |
n.陶器,陶器场 | |
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20 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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21 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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22 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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23 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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24 outgrown | |
长[发展] 得超过(某物)的范围( outgrow的过去分词 ); 长[发展]得不能再要(某物); 长得比…快; 生长速度超过 | |
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25 potteries | |
n.陶器( pottery的名词复数 );陶器厂;陶土;陶器制造(术) | |
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26 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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27 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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28 disporting | |
v.嬉戏,玩乐,自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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29 lithe | |
adj.(指人、身体)柔软的,易弯的 | |
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30 revel | |
vi.狂欢作乐,陶醉;n.作乐,狂欢 | |
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31 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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32 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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33 underlying | |
adj.在下面的,含蓄的,潜在的 | |
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34 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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35 renascent | |
adj.新生的 | |
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36 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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37 decorative | |
adj.装饰的,可作装饰的 | |
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38 cramping | |
图像压缩 | |
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39 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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40 sporadic | |
adj.偶尔发生的 [反]regular;分散的 | |
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41 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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42 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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43 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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44 croak | |
vi.嘎嘎叫,发牢骚 | |
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45 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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46 mechanism | |
n.机械装置;机构,结构 | |
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47 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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48 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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49 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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