From one of the windows of this saloon, we may see a flight of broad stone steps, descending8 alongside the antique and massive foundation of the Capitol, towards the battered9 triumphal arch of Septimius Severus, right below. Farther on, the eye skirts along the edge of the desolate10 Forum11 (where Roman washerwomen hang out their linen12 to the sun), passing over a shapeless confusion of modern edifices13, piled rudely up with ancient brick and stone, and over the domes14 of Christian15 churches, built on the old pavements of heathen temples, and supported by the very pillars that once upheld them. At a distance beyond—yet but a little way, considering how much history is heaped into the intervening space—rises the great sweep of the Coliseum, with the blue sky brightening through its upper tier of arches. Far off, the view is shut in by the Alban Mountains, looking just the same, amid all this decay and change, as when Romulus gazed thitherward over his half finished wall.
We glance hastily at these things,—at this bright sky, and those blue distant mountains, and at the ruins, Etruscan, Roman, Christian, venerable with a threefold antiquity16, and at the company of world-famous statues in the saloon,—in the hope of putting the reader into that state of feeling which is experienced oftenest at Rome. It is a vague sense of ponderous17 remembrances; a perception of such weight and density18 in a bygone life, of which this spot was the centre, that the present moment is pressed down or crowded out, and our individual affairs and interests are but half as real here as elsewhere. Viewed through this medium, our narrative—into which are woven some airy and unsubstantial threads, intermixed with others, twisted out of the commonest stuff of human existence—may seem not widely different from the texture19 of all our lives.
Side by side with the massiveness of the Roman Past, all matters that we handle or dream of nowadays look evanescent and visionary alike.
It might be that the four persons whom we are seeking to introduce were conscious of this dreamy character of the present, as compared with the square blocks of granite20 wherewith the Romans built their lives. Perhaps it even contributed to the fanciful merriment which was just now their mood. When we find ourselves fading into shadows and unrealities, it seems hardly worth while to be sad, but rather to laugh as gayly as we may, and ask little reason wherefore.
Of these four friends of ours, three were artists, or connected with art; and, at this moment, they had been simultaneously21 struck by a resemblance between one of the antique statues, a well-known masterpiece of Grecian sculpture, and a young Italian, the fourth member of their party.
“You must needs confess, Kenyon,” said a dark-eyed young woman, whom her friends called Miriam, “that you never chiselled22 out of marble, nor wrought23 in clay, a more vivid likeness24 than this, cunning a bust-maker as you think yourself. The portraiture25 is perfect in character, sentiment, and feature. If it were a picture, the resemblance might be half illusive26 and imaginary; but here, in this Pentelic marble, it is a substantial fact, and may be tested by absolute touch and measurement. Our friend Donatello is the very Faun of Praxiteles. Is it not true, Hilda?”
“Not quite—almost—yes, I really think so,” replied Hilda, a slender, brown-haired, New England girl, whose perceptions of form and expression were wonderfully clear and delicate. “If there is any difference between the two faces, the reason may be, I suppose, that the Faun dwelt in woods and fields, and consorted28 with his like; whereas Donatello has known cities a little, and such people as ourselves. But the resemblance is very close, and very strange.”
“Not so strange,” whispered Miriam mischievously29; “for no Faun in Arcadia was ever a greater simpleton than Donatello. He has hardly a man’s share of wit, small as that may be. It is a pity there are no longer any of this congenial race of rustic31 creatures for our friend to consort27 with!”
“Hush, naughty one!” returned Hilda. “You are very ungrateful, for you well know he has wit enough to worship you, at all events.”
“Then the greater fool he!” said Miriam so bitterly that Hilda’s quiet eyes were somewhat startled.
“Donatello, my dear friend,” said Kenyon, in Italian, “pray gratify us all by taking the exact attitude of this statue.”
The young man laughed, and threw himself into the position in which the statue has been standing for two or three thousand years. In truth, allowing for the difference of costume, and if a lion’s skin could have been substituted for his modern talma, and a rustic pipe for his stick, Donatello might have figured perfectly32 as the marble Faun, miraculously33 softened34 into flesh and blood.
“Yes; the resemblance is wonderful,” observed Kenyon, after examining the marble and the man with the accuracy of a sculptor35’s eye. “There is one point, however, or, rather, two points, in respect to which our friend Donatello’s abundant curls will not permit us to say whether the likeness is carried into minute detail.”
And the sculptor directed the attention of the party to the ears of the beautiful statue which they were contemplating36.
But we must do more than merely refer to this exquisite37 work of art; it must be described, however inadequate38 may be the effort to express its magic peculiarity39 in words.
The Faun is the marble image of a young man, leaning his right arm on the trunk or stump40 of a tree; one hand hangs carelessly by his side; in the other he holds the fragment of a pipe, or some such sylvan41 instrument of music. His only garment—a lion’s skin, with the claws upon his shoulder—falls halfway42 down his back, leaving the limbs and entire front of the figure nude43. The form, thus displayed, is marvellously graceful44, but has a fuller and more rounded outline, more flesh, and less of heroic muscle, than the old sculptors45 were wont46 to assign to their types of masculine beauty. The character of the face corresponds with the figure; it is most agreeable in outline and feature, but rounded and somewhat voluptuously47 developed, especially about the throat and chin; the nose is almost straight, but very slightly curves inward, thereby48 acquiring an indescribable charm of geniality49 and humor. The mouth, with its full yet delicate lips, seems so nearly to smile outright50, that it calls forth51 a responsive smile. The whole statue—unlike anything else that ever was wrought in that severe material of marble—conveys the idea of an amiable52 and sensual creature, easy, mirthful, apt for jollity, yet not incapable53 of being touched by pathos54. It is impossible to gaze long at this stone image without conceiving a kindly55 sentiment towards it, as if its substance were warm to the touch, and imbued56 with actual life. It comes very close to some of our pleasantest sympathies.
Perhaps it is the very lack of moral severity, of any high and heroic ingredient in the character of the Faun, that makes it so delightful57 an object to the human eye and to the frailty58 of the human heart. The being here represented is endowed with no principle of virtue59, and would be incapable of comprehending such; but he would be true and honest by dint60 of his simplicity61. We should expect from him no sacrifice or effort for an abstract cause; there is not an atom of martyr’s stuff in all that softened marble; but he has a capacity for strong and warm attachment62, and might act devotedly63 through its impulse, and even die for it at need. It is possible, too, that the Faun might be educated through the medium of his emotions, so that the coarser animal portion of his nature might eventually be thrown into the background, though never utterly64 expelled.
The animal nature, indeed, is a most essential part of the Faun’s composition; for the characteristics of the brute65 creation meet and combine with those of humanity in this strange yet true and natural conception of antique poetry and art. Praxiteles has subtly diffused66 throughout his work that mute mystery, which so hopelessly perplexes us whenever we attempt to gain an intellectual or sympathetic knowledge of the lower orders of creation. The riddle67 is indicated, however, only by two definite signs: these are the two ears of the Faun, which are leaf shaped, terminating in little peaks, like those of some species of animals. Though not so seen in the marble, they are probably to be considered as clothed in fine, downy fur. In the coarser representations of this class of mythological68 creatures, there is another token of brute kindred,—a certain caudal appendage69; which, if the Faun of Praxiteles must be supposed to possess it at all, is hidden by the lion’s skin that forms his garment. The pointed70 and furry71 ears, therefore, are the sole indications of his wild, forest nature.
Only a sculptor of the finest imagination, the most delicate taste, the sweetest feeling, and the rarest artistic72 skill—in a word, a sculptor and a poet too—could have first dreamed of a Faun in this guise73, and then have succeeded in imprisoning74 the sportive and frisky75 thing in marble. Neither man nor animal, and yet no monster, but a being in whom both races meet on friendly ground. The idea grows coarse as we handle it, and hardens in our grasp. But, if the spectator broods long over the statue, he will be conscious of its spell; all the pleasantness of sylvan life, all the genial30 and happy characteristics of creatures that dwell in woods and fields, will seem to be mingled76 and kneaded into one substance, along with the kindred qualities in the human soul. Trees, grass, flowers, woodland streamlets, cattle, deer, and unsophisticated man. The essence of all these was compressed long ago, and still exists, within that discolored marble surface of the Faun of Praxiteles.
And, after all, the idea may have been no dream, but rather a poet’s reminiscence of a period when man’s affinity77 with nature was more strict, and his fellowship with every living thing more intimate and dear.
点击收听单词发音
1 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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2 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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3 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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4 embodies | |
v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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5 corroded | |
已被腐蚀的 | |
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6 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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7 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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8 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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9 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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10 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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11 forum | |
n.论坛,讨论会 | |
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12 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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13 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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14 domes | |
n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 );像圆屋顶一样的东西;圆顶体育场 | |
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15 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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16 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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17 ponderous | |
adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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18 density | |
n.密集,密度,浓度 | |
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19 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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20 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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21 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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22 chiselled | |
adj.凿过的,凿光的; (文章等)精心雕琢的v.凿,雕,镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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23 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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24 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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25 portraiture | |
n.肖像画法 | |
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26 illusive | |
adj.迷惑人的,错觉的 | |
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27 consort | |
v.相伴;结交 | |
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28 consorted | |
v.结伴( consort的过去式和过去分词 );交往;相称;调和 | |
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29 mischievously | |
adv.有害地;淘气地 | |
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30 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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31 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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32 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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33 miraculously | |
ad.奇迹般地 | |
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34 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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35 sculptor | |
n.雕刻家,雕刻家 | |
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36 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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37 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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38 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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39 peculiarity | |
n.独特性,特色;特殊的东西;怪癖 | |
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40 stump | |
n.残株,烟蒂,讲演台;v.砍断,蹒跚而走 | |
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41 sylvan | |
adj.森林的 | |
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42 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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43 nude | |
adj.裸体的;n.裸体者,裸体艺术品 | |
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44 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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45 sculptors | |
雕刻家,雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 ); [天]玉夫座 | |
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46 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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47 voluptuously | |
adv.风骚地,体态丰满地 | |
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48 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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49 geniality | |
n.和蔼,诚恳;愉快 | |
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50 outright | |
adv.坦率地;彻底地;立即;adj.无疑的;彻底的 | |
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51 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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52 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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53 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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54 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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55 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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56 imbued | |
v.使(某人/某事)充满或激起(感情等)( imbue的过去式和过去分词 );使充满;灌输;激发(强烈感情或品质等) | |
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57 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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58 frailty | |
n.脆弱;意志薄弱 | |
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59 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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60 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
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61 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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62 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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63 devotedly | |
专心地; 恩爱地; 忠实地; 一心一意地 | |
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64 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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65 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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66 diffused | |
散布的,普及的,扩散的 | |
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67 riddle | |
n.谜,谜语,粗筛;vt.解谜,给…出谜,筛,检查,鉴定,非难,充满于;vi.出谜 | |
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68 mythological | |
adj.神话的 | |
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69 appendage | |
n.附加物 | |
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70 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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71 furry | |
adj.毛皮的;似毛皮的;毛皮制的 | |
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72 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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73 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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74 imprisoning | |
v.下狱,监禁( imprison的现在分词 ) | |
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75 frisky | |
adj.活泼的,欢闹的;n.活泼,闹着玩;adv.活泼地,闹着玩地 | |
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76 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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77 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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