Their road wound onward6 among the hills, which rose steep and lofty from the scanty7 level space that lay between them. They continually thrust their great bulks before the wayfarers8, as if grimly resolute9 to forbid their passage, or closed abruptly10 behind them, when they still dared to proceed. A gigantic hill would set its foot right down before them, and only at the last moment would grudgingly11 withdraw it, just far enough to let them creep towards another obstacle. Adown these rough heights were visible the dry tracks of many a mountain torrent12 that had lived a life too fierce and passionate13 to be a long one. Or, perhaps, a stream was yet hurrying shyly along the edge of a far wider bed of pebbles14 and shelving rock than it seemed to need, though not too wide for the swollen15 rage of which this shy rivulet16 was capable. A stone bridge bestrode it, the ponderous17 arches of which were upheld and rendered indestructible by the weight of the very stones that threatened to crush them down. Old Roman toil18 was perceptible in the foundations of that massive bridge; the first weight that it ever bore was that of an army of the Republic.
Threading these defiles19, they would arrive at some immemorial city, crowning the high summit of a hill with its cathedral, its many churches, and public edifices20, all of Gothic architecture. With no more level ground than a single piazza21 in the midst, the ancient town tumbled its crooked22 and narrow streets down the mountainside, through arched passages and by steps of stone. The aspect of everything was awfully23 old; older, indeed, in its effect on the imagination than Rome itself, because history does not lay its finger on these forgotten edifices and tell us all about their origin. Etruscan princes may have dwelt in them. A thousand years, at all events, would seem but a middle age for these structures. They are built of such huge, square stones, that their appearance of ponderous durability24 distresses25 the beholder26 with the idea that they can never fall,—never crumble27 away,—never be less fit than now for human habitation. Many of them may once have been palaces, and still retain a squalid grandeur28. But, gazing at them, we recognize how undesirable29 it is to build the tabernacle of our brief lifetime out of permanent materials, and with a view to their being occupied by future ‘generations.
All towns should be made capable of purification by fire, or of decay, within each half-century. Otherwise, they become the hereditary30 haunts of vermin and noisomeness31, besides standing32 apart from the possibility of such improvements as are constantly introduced into the rest of man’s contrivances and accommodations. It is beautiful, no doubt, and exceedingly satisfactory to some of our natural instincts, to imagine our far posterity33 dwelling34 under the same roof-tree as ourselves. Still, when people insist on building indestructible houses, they incur35, or their children do, a misfortune analogous36 to that of the Sibyl, when she obtained the grievous boon37 of immortality39. So we may build almost immortal38 habitations, it is true; but we cannot keep them from growing old, musty, unwholesome, dreary40,—full of death scents41, ghosts, and murder stains; in short, such habitations as one sees everywhere in Italy, be they hovels or palaces.
“You should go with me to my native country,” observed the sculptor42 to Donatello. “In that fortunate land, each generation has only its own sins and sorrows to bear. Here, it seems as if all the weary and dreary Past were piled upon the back of the Present. If I were to lose my spirits in this country,—if I were to suffer any heavy misfortune here,—methinks it would be impossible to stand up against it, under such adverse43 influences.”
“The sky itself is an old roof, now,” answered the Count; “and, no doubt, the sins of mankind have made it gloomier than it used to be.” “O, my poor Faun,” thought Kenyon to himself, “how art thou changed!”
A city, like this of which we speak, seems a sort of stony44 growth out of the hillside, or a fossilized town; so ancient and strange it looks, without enough of life and juiciness in it to be any longer susceptible45 of decay. An earthquake would afford it the only chance of being ruined, beyond its present ruin.
Yet, though dead to all the purposes for which we live to-day, the place has its glorious recollections, and not merely rude and warlike ones, but those of brighter and milder triumphs, the fruits of which we still enjoy. Italy can count several of these lifeless towns which, four or five hundred years ago, were each the birthplace of its own school of art; nor have they yet forgotten to be proud of the dark old pictures, and the faded frescos, the pristine46 beauty of which was a light and gladness to the world. But now, unless one happens to be a painter, these famous works make us miserably47 desperate. They are poor, dim ghosts of what, when Giotto or Cimabue first created them, threw a splendor48 along the stately aisles49; so far gone towards nothingness, in our day, that scarcely a hint of design or expression can glimmer50 through the dusk. Those early artists did well to paint their frescos. Glowing on the church-walls, they might be looked upon as symbols of the living spirit that made Catholicism a true religion, and that glorified51 it as long as it retained a genuine life; they filled the transepts with a radiant throng52 of saints and angels, and threw around the high altar a faint reflection—as much as mortals could see, or bear—of a Diviner Presence. But now that the colors are so wretchedly bedimmed,—now that blotches53 of plastered wall dot the frescos all over, like a mean reality thrusting itself through life’s brightest illusions,—the next best artist to Cimabue or Giotto or Ghirlandaio or Pinturicchio will be he that shall reverently54 cover their ruined masterpieces with whitewash55!
Kenyon, however, being an earnest student and critic of Art, lingered long before these pathetic relics56; and Donatello, in his present phase of penitence57, thought no time spent amiss while he could be kneeling before an altar. Whenever they found a cathedral, therefore, or a Gothic church, the two travellers were of one mind to enter it. In some of these holy edifices they saw pictures that time had not dimmed nor injured in the least, though they perhaps belonged to as old a school of Art as any that were perishing around them. These were the painted windows; and as often as he gazed at them the sculptor blessed the medieval time, and its gorgeous contrivances of splendor; for surely the skill of man has never accomplished58, nor his mind imagined, any other beauty or glory worthy59 to be compared with these.
It is the special excellence60 of pictured glass, that the light, which falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused throughout the work; it illuminates61 the design, and invests it with a living radiance; and in requital62 the unfading colors transmute63 the common daylight into a miracle of richness and glory in its passage through the heavenly substance of the blessed and angelic shapes which throng the high-arched window.
“It is a woeful thing,” cried Kenyon, while one of these frail64 yet enduring and fadeless pictures threw its hues65 on his face, and on the pavement of the church around him,—“a sad necessity that any Christian66 soul should pass from earth without once seeing an antique painted window, with the bright Italian sunshine glowing through it! There is no other such true symbol of the glories of the better world, where a celestial67 radiance will be inherent in all things and persons, and render each continually transparent68 to the sight of all.”
“But what a horror it would be,” said Donatello sadly, “if there were a soul among them through which the light could not be transfused69!”
“Yes; and perhaps this is to be the punishment of sin,” replied the sculptor; “not that it shall be made evident to the universe, which can profit nothing by such knowledge, but that it shall insulate the sinner from all sweet society by rendering70 him impermeable71 to light, and, therefore, unrecognizable in the abode72 of heavenly simplicity73 and truth. Then, what remains74 for him, but the dreariness75 of infinite and eternal solitude76?”
“That would be a horrible destiny, indeed!” said Donatello.
His voice as he spoke77 the words had a hollow and dreary cadence78, as if he anticipated some such frozen solitude for himself. A figure in a dark robe was lurking79 in the obscurity of a side chapel80 close by, and made an impulsive81 movement forward, but hesitated as Donatello spoke again.
“But there might be a more miserable82 torture than to be solitary83 forever,” said he. “Think of having a single companion in eternity84, and instead of finding any consolation85, or at all events variety of torture, to see your own weary, weary sin repeated in that inseparable soul.”
“I think, my dear Count, you have never read Dante,” observed Kenyon. “That idea is somewhat in his style, but I cannot help regretting that it came into your mind just then.”
The dark-robed figure had shrunk back, and was quite lost to sight among the shadows of the chapel.
“There was an English poet,” resumed Kenyon, turning again towards the window, “who speaks of the ‘dim, religious light,’ transmitted through painted glass. I always admired this richly descriptive phrase; but, though he was once in Italy, I question whether Milton ever saw any but the dingy86 pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, imperfectly shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have illuminated87 that word ‘dim’ with some epithet88 that should not chase away the dimness, yet should make it glow like a million of rubies89, sapphires90, emeralds, and topazes. Is it not so with yonder window? The pictures are most brilliant in themselves, yet dim with tenderness and reverence91, because God himself is shining through them.”
“The pictures fill me with emotion, but not such as you seem to experience,” said Donatello. “I tremble at those awful saints; and, most of all, at the figure above them. He glows with Divine wrath92!”
“My dear friend,” said Kenyon, “how strangely your eyes have transmuted93 the expression of the figure! It is divine love, not wrath!”
“To my eyes,” said Donatello stubbornly, “it is wrath, not love! Each must interpret for himself.”
The friends left the church, and looking up, from the exterior94, at the window which they had just been contemplating95 within, nothing; was visible but the merest outline of dusky shapes, Neither the individual likeness96 of saint, angel, nor Saviour97, and far less the combined scheme and purport98 of the picture, could anywise be made out. That miracle of radiant art, thus viewed, was nothing better than an incomprehensible obscurity, without a gleam of beauty to induce the beholder to attempt unravelling99 it.
“All this,” thought the sculptor, “is a most forcible emblem100 of the different aspect of religious truth and sacred story, as viewed from the warm interior of belief, or from its cold and dreary outside. Christian faith is a grand cathedral, with divinely pictured windows. Standing without, you see no glory, nor can possibly imagine any; standing within, every ray of light reveals a harmony of unspeakable splendors101.”
After Kenyon and Donatello emerged from the church, however, they had better opportunity for acts of charity and mercy than for religious contemplation; being immediately surrounded by a swarm102 of beggars, who are the present possessors of Italy, and share the spoil of the stranger with the fleas103 and mosquitoes, their formidable allies. These pests—the human ones—had hunted the two travellers at every stage of their journey. From village to village, ragged104 boys and girls kept almost under the horses’ feet; hoary105 grandsires and grandames caught glimpses of their approach, and hobbled to intercept108 them at some point of vantage; blind men stared them out of countenance109 with their sightless orbs110; women held up their unwashed babies; cripples displayed their wooden legs, their grievous scars, their dangling111, boneless arms, their broken backs, their burden of a hump, or whatever infirmity or deformity Providence112 had assigned them for an inheritance. On the highest mountain summit—in the most shadowy ravine—there was a beggar waiting for them. In one small village, Kenyon had the curiosity to count merely how many children were crying, whining113, and bellowing114 all at once for alms. They proved to be more than forty of as ragged and dirty little imps107 as any in the world; besides whom, all the wrinkled matrons, and most of the village maids, and not a few stalwart men, held out their hands grimly, piteously, or smilingly in the forlorn hope of whatever trifle of coin might remain in pockets already so fearfully taxed. Had they been permitted, they would gladly have knelt down and worshipped the travellers, and have cursed them, without rising from their knees, if the expected boon failed to be awarded.
Yet they were not so miserably poor but that the grown people kept houses over their heads.
In the way of food, they had, at least, vegetables in their little gardens, pigs and chickens to kill, eggs to fry into omelets with oil, wine to drink, and many other things to make life comfortable. As for the children, when no more small coin appeared to be forthcoming, they began to laugh and play, and turn heels over head, showing themselves jolly and vivacious115 brats116, and evidently as well fed as needs be. The truth is, the Italian peasantry look upon strangers as the almoners of Providence, and therefore feel no more shame in asking and receiving alms, than in availing themselves of providential bounties117 in whatever other form.
In accordance with his nature, Donatello was always exceedingly charitable to these ragged battalions118, and appeared to derive119 a certain consolation from the prayers which many of them put up in his behalf. In Italy a copper120 coin of minute value will often make all the difference between a vindictive121 curse—death by apoplexy being the favorite one-mumbled in an old witch’s toothless jaws122, and a prayer from the same lips, so earnest that it would seem to reward the charitable soul with at least a puff123 of grateful breath to help him heavenward. Good wishes being so cheap, though possibly not very efficacious, and anathemas124 so exceedingly bitter,—even if the greater portion of their poison remain in the mouth that utters them,—it may be wise to expend125 some reasonable amount in the purchase of the former. Donatello invariably did so; and as he distributed his alms under the pictured window, of which we have been speaking, no less than seven ancient women lifted their hands and besought126 blessings127 on his head.
“Come,” said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which he saw in his friend’s face. “I think your steed will not stumble with you to-day. Each of these old dames106 looks as much like Horace’s Atra Cura as can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of them, they will make your burden on horseback lighter128 instead of heavier.”
“Are we to ride far?” asked the Count.
“A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon,” Kenyon replied; “for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope’s statue in the great square of Perugia.”
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1
modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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grudgingly
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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14
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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defiles
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| v.玷污( defile的第三人称单数 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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durability
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| n.经久性，耐用性 | |
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distresses
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| n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 )；痛苦；贫困；危险 | |
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beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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noisomeness
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| n.noisome（恶臭的）的变形 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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48
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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49
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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50
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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51
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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52
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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53
blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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54
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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55
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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58
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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60
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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61
illuminates
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| v.使明亮( illuminate的第三人称单数 )；照亮；装饰；说明 | |
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62
requital
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| n.酬劳；报复 | |
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transmute
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| vt.使变化，使改变 | |
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64
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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65
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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66
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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67
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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69
transfused
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| v.输（血或别的液体）( transfuse的过去式和过去分词 )；渗透；使…被灌输或传达 | |
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70
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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71
impermeable
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| adj.不能透过的，不渗透的 | |
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72
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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73
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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74
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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75
dreariness
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| 沉寂，可怕，凄凉 | |
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76
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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77
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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78
cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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79
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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80
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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81
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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82
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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83
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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84
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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85
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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86
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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87
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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88
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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89
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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90
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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91
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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92
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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93
transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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95
contemplating
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| 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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96
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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99
unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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100
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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101
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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102
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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103
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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104
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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105
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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106
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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107
imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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108
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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109
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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110
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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111
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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112
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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113
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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114
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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115
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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116
brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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117
bounties
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| （由政府提供的）奖金( bounty的名词复数 )； 赏金； 慷慨； 大方 | |
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118
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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119
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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120
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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121
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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122
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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123
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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124
anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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125
expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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126
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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127
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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128
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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