第 56 节
作者:猫王      更新:2021-02-27 00:40      字数:9270
  was willing to die; for he had fulfilled his purpose。
  〃What was the subject?〃 I asked。
  〃I scarcely know。       It was strange and fantastic。        It was a vision of the
  beginnings of the world; the Garden of Eden; with Adam and Eve        it   was   a   hymn   to   the   beauty   of   the   human   form;   male   and
  female;   and   the   praise   of   Nature;   sublime;   indifferent;   lovely;   and   cruel。
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  It gave you an awful sense of the infinity of space and of the endlessness
  of   time。    Because   he   painted   the   trees   I   see   about   me   every   day;   the
  cocoa…nuts; the banyans; the flamboyants; the alligator…pears; I have seen
  them  ever   since   differently;   as   though   there   were   in   them  a   spirit   and   a
  mystery which I am ever on the point of seizing and which forever escapes
  me。    The    colours   were    the   colours   familiar    to  me;   and   yet   they   were
  different。     They  had   a   significance   which   was   all   their   own。 And   those
  nude   men   and   women。        They   were   of   the   earth;   and   yet   apart   from   it。
  They seemed to possess something of the clay of which they were created;
  and at the same time something divine。 You saw man in the nakedness of
  his primeval instincts; and you were afraid; for you saw yourself。〃
  Dr。 Coutras shrugged his shoulders and smiled。
  〃You will laugh at me。         I am a materialist; and I am a gross; fat man
  Falstaff;   eh?      the   lyrical   mode   does   not   become   me。   I   make   myself
  ridiculous。      But    I  have   never    seen   painting    which    made     so  deep    an
  impression upon   me。         ; I   had   just the same   feeling as   when   I
  went to the Sistine Chapel in Rome。 There too I was awed by the greatness
  of   the   man    who    had   painted   that   ceiling。   It   was   genius;    and   it  was
  stupendous and overwhelming。              I felt small and insignificant。 But you are
  prepared for the greatness of Michael Angelo。 Nothing had prepared   me
  for the immense surprise of these pictures in a native hut; far away from
  civilisation;    in   a  fold  of  the   mountain     above     Taravao。     And     Michael
  Angelo is sane and healthy。            Those great works of his have the calm of
  the  sublime;   but   here;   notwithstanding   beauty;   was   something   troubling。
  I do not know what it was。           It made me uneasy。 It gave me the impression
  you get when you are sitting next door to a room that you know is empty;
  but in which; you know not why; you have a dreadful consciousness that
  notwithstanding   there   is   someone。         You   scold   yourself;   you   know   it   is
  only your nerves  and yet; and yet。。。            In a little while it is impossible to
  resist the terror that seizes you; and you are helpless in the clutch of   an
  unseen horror。       Yes; I confess I was not altogether sorry when I heard that
  those strange masterpieces had been destroyed。〃
  〃Destroyed?〃        I cried。
  〃; did you not know?〃
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  〃How should I know? It is true I had never heard of this work; but I
  thought   perhaps   it   had   fallen   into   the   hands   of   a   private   owner。 Even
  now there is no certain list of Strickland's paintings。〃
  〃When he grew blind he would sit hour after hour in those two rooms
  that he had painted; looking at his works with sightless eyes; and seeing;
  perhaps; more than he had ever seen in his life before。                Ata told me that
  he never complained of his fate; he never lost courage。                  To the end his
  mind   remained   serene   and   undisturbed。        But   he   made   her   promise   that
  when she had buried him  did I tell you that I dug his grave with my own
  hands; for none of the natives would approach the infected house; and we
  buried him; she and I; sewn up in three  joined together; under
  the mango…tree  he made her promise that she would set fire to the house
  and not leave it till it was burned to the ground and not a stick remained。〃
  I did not speak for a while; for I was thinking。          Then I said:
  〃He remained the same to the end; then。〃
  〃Do   you   understand?   I   must   tell   you   that   I   thought   it   my   duty   to
  dissuade her。〃
  〃Even after what you have just said?〃
  〃Yes; for I knew that here was a work of genius; and I did not think we
  had the right to deprive the world of it。           But Ata would not listen to me。
  She had promised。         I would not stay to witness the barbarous deed; and it
  was only afterwards that I heard what she had done。                She poured paraffin
  on the dry floors and on the pandanus…mats; and then she set fire。                    In a
  little   while   nothing     remained     but   smouldering      embers;    and   a   great
  masterpiece existed no longer。
  〃I think Strickland knew it was a masterpiece。             He had achieved what
  he wanted。      His life was complete。        He had made a world and saw that it
  was good。      Then; in pride and contempt; he destroyed; it。〃
  〃But I must show you my picture;〃 said Dr。 Coutras; moving on。
  〃What happened to Ata and the child?〃
  They went to the Marquesas。            She had relations there。        I have heard
  that the boy works on one of Cameron's schooners。 They say he is   very
  like his father in appearance。〃
  At the door that led from the verandah to the doctor's consulting…room;
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  he paused and smiled。
  〃It is a fruit…piece。     You would think it not a very suitable picture for
  a doctor's consulting…room; but my wife will not have it in the drawing…
  room。     She says it is frankly obscene。〃
  〃A fruit…piece!〃 I exclaimed in surprise。
  We entered the room; and my eyes fell at once on the picture。 I looked
  at it for a long time。
  It   was   a   pile   of   mangoes;   bananas;   oranges;   and   I   know   not   what。
  and at   first   sight   it   was   an   innocent   picture  enough。  It   would   have been
  passed in an exhibition of the Post… Impressionists by a careless person as
  an excellent but not very remarkable example of the school; but perhaps
  afterwards it would come back to his recollection; and he would wonder
  why。 I do not think then he could ever entirely forget it。
  The colours were so strange that words can hardly tell what a troubling
  emotion   they   gave。       They   were   sombre   blues;   opaque   like   a   delicately
  carved bowl in lapis lazuli; and yet with a quivering lustre that suggested
  the palpitation of mysterious life; there were purples; horrible like raw and
  putrid flesh; and yet with a glowing; sensual passion that called up vague
  memories   of   the   Roman   Empire   of   Heliogabalus;   there   were   reds;  shrill
  like the berries of holly  one thought of Christmas in England; and the
  snow;   the   good   cheer;   and   the   pleasure   of   children      and   yet   by   some
  magic softened till they  had the swooning tenderness of a dove's   breast;
  there were deep yellows that died with an unnatural passion into a green as
  fragrant   as   the   spring   and   as   pure   as   the   sparkling   water   of   a   mountain
  brook。     Who      can   tell  what   anguished      fancy   made     these   fruits?  They
  belonged to a Polynesian garden of the Hesperides。 There was something
  strangely   alive   in   them;   as   though   they   were   created   in   a   stage   of   the
  earth's dark history when things were not irrevocably fixed to their forms。
  They     were    extravagantly      luxurious。     They      were    heavy    with   tropical
  odours。      They seemed to possess a sombre passion of their own。                    It was
  enchanted fruit; to taste which might open the gateway to God knows what
  secrets of the soul and to   mysterious   palaces of   the imagination。                They
  were sullen with unawaited dangers; and to eat them might turn a man to
  beast or   god。     All that   was healthy  and natural;   all   that   clung to   happy
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  relationships   and   the   simple   joys   of   simple   men;   shrunk   from   them   in
  dismay; and yet a fearful attraction was in them; and; like the fruit on the