The Marble Faun, Or, the Romance of Monte Beni, Том 1Houghton Mifflin, 1800 |
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answered Miriam antique Apennines Arch of Titus arches artist asked Miriam bas-reliefs Beatrice Cenci beautiful beheld beneath breath Capitoline Hill Capuchins catacomb church close Coliseum companion creature cried dance dark dear delicate delightful Donatello dream evil exclaimed Miriam eyes face fancy Faun flinging forever fountain gazed gentle glance gloomy hand happy haunted heart Hilda human idea imagination Italian Italy Kenyon kindly laughing light look maiden marble marble Faun mediæval mirth mood moonshine natural never once painter palace passion perhaps piazza picture pillar Pincian Hill poor Porta del Popolo Praxiteles Pray rejoined replied Roman Rome ruin satyrs scene sculptor seemed shadow shrine side signorina sketch smile sorrow soul spectre spirit statue steps stone strange sunshine sympathy thing thought tion touch tower Trajan truth turned Twice-Told Tales vanished walls whispered wild wine woman wonder wrought young youth دو
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Сторінка 195 - ... lost to them. As their spirits rose to the solemn madness of the occasion, they went onward — not stealthily, not fearfully — but with a stately gait and aspect. Passion lent them (as it does to meaner shapes) its brief nobility of carriage. They trod through the streets of Rome, as if they, too, were among the majestic and guilty shadows, that, from ages long gone by, have haunted the bloodstained city.
Сторінка 192 - Did you not mean that he should die?" sternly asked Donatello, still in the glow of that intelligence which passion had developed in him. "There was short time to weigh the matter; but he had his trial in that breath or two, while I held him over the cliff, and his sentence in that one glance, when your eyes responded to mine! Say that I have slain him against your will — say that he died without your whole consent — and, in another breath, you shall see me lying beside him.
Сторінка 128 - Help, friends! help!" but, as with dreamers when they shout, her voice would perish inaudibly in the remoteness that seemed such a little way. This perception of an infinite, shivering solitude, amid which we cannot come close enough to human beings to be warmed by them, and where they turn to cold, chilly shapes of mist, is one of the most forlorn results of any accident, misfortune, crime, or peculiarity of character, that puts an individual ajar with the world.
Сторінка 75 - ... artist's pencil should not brighten it into joyousness. But, in fact, it was the very saddest picture ever painted or conceived; it involved an unfathomable depth of sorrow, the sense of which came to the observer by a sort of intuition. It was a sorrow that removed this beautiful girl out of the sphere of humanity, and set her in a far-off region, the remoteness of which — while yet her face is so close before us — makes us shiver as at a spectre.
Сторінка 106 - ... we undertake a task resembling in its perplexity that of gathering up and piecing together the fragments of a letter which has been torn and scattered to the winds. Many words of deep significance, many entire sentences, and those possibly the most important ones, have flown too far on the winged breeze to be recovered. If we insert our own conjectural amendments, we perhaps give a purport utterly at variance with the true one.
Сторінка 138 - Every young sculptor seems to think that he must give the world some specimen of indecorous womanhood, and call it Eve, Venus, a Nymph, or any name that may apologize for a lack of decent clothing. I am weary, even more than I am ashamed, of seeing such things. Nowadays people are as good as born in their clothes, and there is practically not a nude human being in existence. An artist, therefore, as you must candidly confess, cannot sculpture nudity with a pure heart, if only because he is compelled...
Сторінка 77 - Hilda, your innocence is like a sharp steel sword ! " exclaimed her friend. " Your judgments are often terribly severe, though you seem all made up of gentleness and mercy. Beatrice's sin may not have been so great : perhaps it was no sin at all, but the best virtue possible in the circumstances. If she viewed it as a sin, it may have been because her nature was too feeble for the fate imposed upon her. Ah...
Сторінка 18 - 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 delightful an object to the human eye and to the frailty of the human heart. The being here represented is endowed with no principle of virtue, and would be incapable of comprehending such; but he would be true and honest by dint of his simplicity.
Сторінка 17 - But we must do more than merely refer to this exquisite work of art ; it must be described, however inadequate may be the effort to express its magic peculiarity in words. The Faun is the marble image of a young man, leaning his right arm on the trunk or stump of a tree ; one hand hangs carelessly by his side ; in the other he holds the fragment of a pipe, or some such sylvan instrument of music. His...
Сторінка vii - No author, without a trial, can conceive of the difficulty of writing a romance about a country where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a commonplace prosperity, in broad and simple daylight, as is happily the case with my dear native land.