T was in a tiny Venetian church, no more than a chapel1, that Lewis Raycie’s eyes had been unsealed—in a dull-looking little church not even mentioned in the guide-books. But for his chance encounter with the young Englishman in the shadow of Mont Blanc, Lewis would never have heard of the place; but then what else that was worth knowing would he ever have heard of, he wondered?
He had stood a long time looking at the frescoes2, put off at first—he could admit it now—by a certain stiffness in the attitudes of the people, by the childish elaboration of their dress (so different
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from the noble draperies which Sir Joshua’s Discourses3 on Art had taught him to admire in the great painters), and by the innocent inexpressive look in their young faces—for even the gray-beards seemed young. And then suddenly his gaze had lit on one of these faces in particular: that of a girl with round cheeks, high cheek-bones and widely set eyes under an intricate head-dress of pearl-woven braids. Why, it was Treeshy—Treeshy Kent to the life! And so far from being thought “plain,” the young lady was no other than the peerless princess about whom the tale revolved4. And what a fairy-land she lived in—full of lithe5 youths and round-faced pouting6 maidens7, rosy8 old men and burnished9 blackamoors, pretty birds and cats and nibbling10 rabbits—and all involved and enclosed in golden balustrades, in colonnades11
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of pink and blue, laurel-garlands festooned from ivory balconies, and domes12 and minarets13 against summer seas! Lewis’s imagination lost itself in the scene; he forgot to regret the noble draperies, the exalted14 sentiments, the fuliginous backgrounds, of the artists he had come to Italy to admire—forgot Sassoferrato, Guido Reni, Carlo Dolce, Lo Spagnoletto, the Carracci, and even the Transfiguration of Raphael, though he knew it to be the greatest picture in the world.
After that he had seen almost everything else that Italian art had to offer; had been to Florence, Naples, Rome; to Bologna to study the Eclectic School, to Parma to examine the Correggios and the Giulio Romanos. But that first vision had laid a magic seed between his lips; the seed that makes you hear what the birds say and the grasses whisper. Even
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if his English friend had not continued at his side, pointing out, explaining, inspiring, Lewis Raycie flattered himself that the round face of the little Saint Ursula would have led him safely and confidently past all her rivals. She had become his touchstone, his star: how insipid15 seemed to him all the sheep-faced Virgins16 draped in red and blue paint after he had looked into her wondering girlish eyes and traced the elaborate pattern of her brocades! He could remember now, quite distinctly, the day when he had given up even Beatrice Cenci ... and as for that fat naked Magdalen of Carlo Dolce’s, lolling over the book she was not reading, and ogling17 the spectator in the good old way ... faugh! Saint Ursula did not need to rescue him from her....
His eyes had been opened to a new world of art. And this world it was his
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mission to reveal to others—he, the insignificant18 and ignorant Lewis Raycie, as “but for the grace of God,” and that chance encounter on Mont Blanc, he might have gone on being to the end! He shuddered19 to think of the army of Neapolitan beggar-boys, bituminous monks20, whirling prophets, languishing21 Madonnas and pink-rumped amorini who might have been travelling home with him in the hold of the fast new steam-packet.
His excitement had something of the apostle’s ecstasy22. He was not only, in a few hours, to embrace Treeshy, and be reunited to his honoured parents; he was also to go forth23 and preach the new gospel to them that sat in the darkness of Salvator Rosa and Lo Spagnoletto....
The first thing that struck Lewis was
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the smallness of the house on the Sound, and the largeness of Mr. Raycie.
He had expected to receive the opposite impression. In his recollection the varnished24 Tuscan villa25 had retained something of its impressiveness, even when compared to its supposed originals. Perhaps the very contrast between their draughty distances and naked floors, and the expensive carpets and bright fires of High Point, magnified his memory of the latter—there were moments when the thought of its groaning26 board certainly added to the effect. But the image of Mr. Raycie had meanwhile dwindled27. Everything about him, as his son looked back, seemed narrow, juvenile28, almost childish. His bluster29 about Edgar Poe, for instance—true poet still to Lewis, though he had since heard richer notes; his fussy30 tyranny of his womenkind; his un
{81}
conscious but total ignorance of most of the things, books, people, ideas, that now filled his son’s mind; above all, the arrogance31 and incompetence32 of his artistic33 judgments34. Beyond a narrow range of reading—mostly, Lewis suspected, culled35 in drowsy36 after-dinner snatches from Knight’s “Half-hours with the Best Authors”—Mr. Raycie made no pretence37 to book-learning; left that, as he handsomely said, “to the professors.” But on matters of art he was dogmatic and explicit38, prepared to justify39 his opinions by the citing of eminent40 authorities and of market-prices, and quite clear, as his farewell talk with his son had shown, as to which Old Masters should be privileged to figure in the Raycie collection.
The young man felt no impatience41 of these judgments. America was a long way from Europe, and it was many years
{82}
since Mr. Raycie had travelled. He could hardly be blamed for not knowing that the things he admired were no longer admirable, still less for not knowing why. The pictures before which Lewis had knelt in spirit had been virtually undiscovered, even by art-students and critics, in his father’s youth. How was an American gentleman, filled with his own self-importance, and paying his courier the highest salary to show him the accredited43 “Masterpieces”—how was he to guess that whenever he stood rapt before a Sassoferrato or a Carlo Dolce one of those unknown treasures lurked44 near by under dust and cobwebs?
No; Lewis felt only tolerance45 and understanding. Such a view was not one to magnify the paternal46 image; but when the young man entered the study where Mr. Raycie sat immobilized by gout, the
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swathed leg stretched along his sofa seemed only another reason for indulgence....
Perhaps, Lewis thought afterward47, it was his father’s prone48 position, the way his great bulk billowed over the sofa, and the lame42 leg reached out like a mountain-ridge, that made him suddenly seem to fill the room; or else the sound of his voice booming irritably49 across the threshold, and scattering50 Mrs. Raycie and the girls with a fierce: “And now, ladies, if the hugging and kissing are over, I should be glad of a moment with my son.” But it was odd that, after mother and daughters had withdrawn51 with all their hoops52 and flounces, the study seemed to grow even smaller, and Lewis himself to feel more like a David without the pebble53.
“Well, my boy,” his father cried, crimson54 and puffing55, “here you are at home
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again, with many adventures to relate, no doubt; and a few masterpieces to show me, as I gather from the drafts on my exchequer56.”
“Oh, as to the masterpieces, sir, certainly,” Lewis simpered, wondering why his voice sounded so fluty, and his smile was produced with such a conscious muscular effort.
“Good—good,” Mr. Raycie approved, waving a violet hand which seemed to be ripening57 for a bandage. “Reedy carried out my orders, I presume? Saw to it that the paintings were deposited with the bulk of your luggage in Canal Street?”
“Oh, yes, sir; Mr. Reedy was on the dock with precise instructions. You know he always carries out your orders,” Lewis ventured with a faint irony58.
Mr. Raycie stared. “Mr. Reedy,” he said, “does what I tell him, if that’s what
{85}
you mean; otherwise he would hardly have been in my employ for over thirty years.”
Lewis was silent, and his father examined him critically. “You appear to have filled out; your health is satisfactory? Well ... well.... Mr. Robert Huzzard and his daughters are dining here this evening, by the way, and will no doubt be expecting to see the latest French novelties in stocks and waistcoats. Malvina has become a very elegant figure, your sisters tell me.” Mr. Raycie chuckled59, and Lewis thought: “I knew it was the oldest Huzzard girl!” while a slight chill ran down his spine60.
“As to the pictures,” Mr. Raycie pursued with growing animation61, “I am laid low, as you see, by this cursèd affliction, and till the doctors get me up again, here must I lie and try to imagine how your treasures will look in the new gallery.
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And meanwhile, my dear boy, I need hardly say that no one is to be admitted to see them till they have been inspected by me and suitably hung. Reedy shall begin unpacking62 at once; and when we move to town next month Mrs. Raycie, God willing, shall give the handsomest evening party New York has yet seen, to show my son’s collection, and perhaps ... eh, well?... to celebrate another interesting event in his history.”
Lewis met this with a faint but respectful gurgle, and before his blurred63 eyes rose the wistful face of Treeshy Kent.
“Ah, well, I shall see her tomorrow,” he thought, taking heart again as soon as he was out of his father’s presence.
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1
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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frescoes
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| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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3
discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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7
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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10
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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11
colonnades
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| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
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12
domes
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| 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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13
minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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14
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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15
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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17
ogling
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的现在分词 ) | |
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18
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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19
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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20
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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21
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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23
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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24
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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25
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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26
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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27
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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29
bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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30
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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31
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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32
incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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33
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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34
judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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35
culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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37
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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38
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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39
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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40
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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41
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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42
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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43
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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44
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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46
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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47
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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48
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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49
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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50
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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51
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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52
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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53
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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54
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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55
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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56
exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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57
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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58
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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59
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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61
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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62
unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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63
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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