the madonna of the future-第3部分

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life　interposed；　and　the　fancy　ached　with　tension；　fixed；　radiant；

distinct；　as　we　see　it　now！　　What　a　master；　certainly！　　But　ah！　what

a　seer！〃



〃Don't　you　imagine；〃　I　answered；　〃that　he　had　a　model；　and　that　some

pretty　young　woman〃



〃As　pretty　a　young　woman　as　you　please！　　It　doesn't　diminish　the

miracle！　　He　took　his　hint；　of　course；　and　the　young　woman；　possibly；

sat　smiling　before　his　canvas。　　But；　meanwhile；　the　painter's　idea

had　taken　wings。　　No　lovely　human　outline　could　charm　it　to　vulgar

fact。　　He　saw　the　fair　form　made　perfect；　he　rose　to　the　vision

without　tremor；　without　effort　of　wing；　he　communed　with　it　face　to

face；　and　resolved　into　finer　and　lovelier　truth　the　purity　which

completes　it　as　the　fragrance　completes　the　rose。　　That's　what　they

call　idealism；　the　word's　vastly　abused；　but　the　thing　is　good。　　It's

my　own　creed；　at　any　rate。　　Lovely　Madonna；　model　at　once　and　muse；　I

call　you　to　witness　that　I　too　am　an　idealist！〃



〃An　idealist；　then；〃　I　said；　half　jocosely；　wishing　to　provoke　him　to

further　utterance；　〃is　a　gentleman　who　says　to　Nature　in　the　person

of　a　beautiful　girl；　'Go　to；　you　are　all　wrong！　　Your　fine　is　coarse；

your　bright　is　dim；　your　grace　is　gaucherie。　　This　is　the　way　you

should　have　done　it！'　　Is　not　the　chance　against　him？〃



He　turned　upon　me　almost　angrily；　but　perceiving　the　genial　savour　of

my　sarcasm；　he　smiled　gravely。　　〃Look　at　that　picture；〃　he　said；　〃and

cease　your　irreverent　mockery！　　Idealism　is　THAT！　　There's　no

explaining　it；　one　must　feel　the　flame！　　It　says　nothing　to　Nature；

or　to　any　beautiful　girl；　that　they　will　not　both　forgive！　　It　says

to　the　fair　woman；　'Accept　me　as　your　artist　friend；　lend　me　your

beautiful　face；　trust　me；　help　me；　and　your　eyes　shall　be　half　my

masterpiece！'　　No　one　so　loves　and　respects　the　rich　realities　of

nature　as　the　artist　whose　imagination　caresses　and　flatters　them。

He　knows　what　a　fact　may　hold　（whether　Raphael　knew；　you　may　judge　by

his　portrait；　behind　us　there；　of　Tommaso　Inghirami）；　bad　his　fancy

hovers　above　it；　as　Anal　hovered　above　the　sleeping　prince。　　There　is

only　one　Raphael；　bad　an　artist　may　still　be　an　artist。　　As　I　said

last　night；　the　days　of　illumination　are　gone；　visions　are　rare；　we

have　to　look　long　to　see　them。　　But　in　meditation　we　may　still

cultivate　the　ideal；　round　it；　smooth　it；　perfect　it。　　The　result

the　result；〃　（here　his　voice　faltered　suddenly；　and　he　fixed　his　eyes

for　a　moment　on　the　picture；　when　they　met　my　own　again　they　were

full　of　tears）〃the　result　may　be　less　than　this；　but　still　it　may

be　good；　it　may　be　GREAT！〃　he　cried　with　vehemence。　　〃It　may　hang

somewhere；　in　after　years；　in　goodly　company；　and　keep　the　artist's

memory　warm。　　Think　of　being　known　to　mankind　after　some　such　fashion

as　this！　of　hanging　here　through　the　slow　centuries　in　the　gaze　of　an

altered　world；　living　on　and　on　in　the　cunning　of　an　eye　and　hand

that　are　part　of　the　dust　of　ages；　a　delight　and　a　law　to　remote

generations；　making　beauty　a　force　and　purity　an　example！〃



〃Heaven　forbid；〃　I　said；　smiling；　〃that　I　should　take　the　wind　out　of

your　sails！　　But　doesn't　it　occur　to　you　that；　besides　being　strong

in　his　genius；　Raphael　was　happy　in　a　certain　good　faith　of　which　we

have　lost　the　trick？　　There　are　people；　I　know；　who　deny　that　his

spotless　Madonnas　are　anything　more　than　pretty　blondes　of　that

period　enhanced　by　the　Raphaelesque　touch；　which　they　declare　is　a

profane　touch。　　Be　that　as　it　may；　people's　religious　and　aesthetic

needs　went　arm　in　arm；　and　there　was；　as　I　may　say；　a　demand　for　the

Blessed　Virgin；　visible　and　adorable；　which　must　have　given　firmness

to　the　artist's　hand。　　I　am　afraid　there　is　no　demand　now。〃



My　companion　seemed　painfully　puzzled；　he　shivered；　as　it　were；　in

this　chilling　blast　of　scepticism。　　Then　shaking　his　head　with

sublime　confidence〃There　is　always　a　demand！〃　he　cried；　〃that

ineffable　type　is　one　of　the　eternal　needs　of　man's　heart；　but　pious

souls　long　for　it　in　silence；　almost　in　shame。　　Let　it　appear；　and

their　faith　grows　brave。　　How　SHOULD　it　appear　in　this　corrupt

generation？　　It　cannot　be　made　to　order。　　It　could；　indeed；　when　the

order　came；　trumpet…toned；　from　the　lips　of　the　Church　herself；　and

was　addressed　to　genius　panting　with　inspiration。　　But　it　can　spring

now　only　from　the　soil　of　passionate　labour　and　culture。　　Do　you

really　fancy　that　while；　from　time　to　time；　a　man　of　complete

artistic　vision　is　born　into　the　world；　that　image　can　perish？　　The

man　who　paints　it　has　painted　everything。　　The　subject　admits　of

every　perfectionform；　colour；　expression；　composition。　　It　can　be

as　simple　as　you　please；　and　yet　as　rich；　as　broad　and　pure；　and　yet

as　full　of　delicate　detail。　　Think　of　the　chance　for　flesh　in　the

little　naked；　nestling　child；　irradiating　divinity；　of　the　chance　for

drapery　in　the　chaste　and　ample　garment　of　the　mother！　think　of　the

great　story　you　compress　into　that　simple　theme！　　Think；　above　all；

of　the　mother's　face　and　its　ineffable　suggestiveness；　of　the　mingled

burden　of　joy　and　trouble；　the　tenderness　turned　to　worship；　and　the

worship　turned　to　far…seeing　pity！　　Then　look　at　it　all　in　perfect

line　and　lovely　colour；　breathing　truth　and　beauty　and　mastery！〃



〃Anch'　io　son　pittore！〃　I　cried。　　〃Unless　I　am　mistaken；　you　have　a

masterpiece　on　the　stocks。　　If　you　put　all　that　in；　you　will　do　more

than　Raphael　himself　did。　　Let　me　know　when　your　picture　is　finished；

and　wherever　in　the　wide　world　I　may　be；　I　will　post　back　to　Florence

and　pay　my　respects　tothe　MADONNA　OF　THE　FUTURE！〃



He　blushed　vividly　and　gave　a　heavy　sigh；　half　of　protest；　half　of

resignation。　　〃I　don't　often　mention　my　picture　by　name。　　I　detest

this　modem　custom　of　premature　publicity。　　A　great　work　needs

silence；　privacy；　mystery　even。　　And　then；　do　you　know；　people　are　so

cruel；　so　frivolous；　so　unable　to　imagine　a　man's　wishing　to　paint　a

Madonna　at　this　time　of　day；　that　I　have　been　laughed　atlaughed　at；

sir！〃　and　his　blush　deepened　to　crimson。　　〃I　don't　know　what　has

prompted　me　to　be　so　frank　and　trustful　with　you。　　You　look　as　if　you

wouldn't　laugh　at　me。　　My　dear　young　man〃and　he　laid　his　hand　on　my

arm〃I　am　worthy　of　respect。　　Whatever　my　talents　may　be；　I　am

honest。　　There　is　nothing　grotesque　in　a　pure　ambition；　or　in　a　life

devoted　to　it。〃



There　was　something　so　sternly　sincere　in　his　look　and　tone　that

further　questions　seemed　impertinent。　　I　had　repeated　opportunity　to

ask　them；　however；　for　after　this　we　spent　much　time　together。　　Daily

for　a　fortnight；　we　met　by　appointment；　to　see　the　sights。　　He　knew

the　city　so　well；　he　had　strolled　and　lounged　so　often　through　its

streets　and　churches　and　galleries；　he　was　so　deeply　versed　in　its

greater　and　lesser　memories；　so　imbued　with　the　local　genius；　that　he

was　an　altogether　ideal　valet　de　place；　and　I　was　glad　enough　to

leave　my　Murray　at　home；　and　gather　facts　and　opinions　alike　from　his

gossiping　commentary。　　He　talked　of　Florence　like　a　lover；　and

admitted　that　it　was　a　very　old　affair；　he　had　lost　his　heart　to　her

at　first　sight。　　〃It's　the　fashion　to　talk　of　all　cities　as

feminine；〃　he　said；　〃but；　as　a　rule；　it's　a　monstrous　mistake。　　Is

Florence　of　the　same　sex　as　New　York；　as　Chicago？　　She　is　the　sole

perfect　lady　of　them　all；　one　feels　towards　her　as　a　lad　in　his　teens

feels　to　some　beautiful　older　woman　with　a　'history。'　　She　fills　you

with　a　sort　of　aspiring　gallantry。〃　　This　disinterested　passion

seemed　to　stand　my　friend　in　stead　of　the　common　social　ties；　he　led

a　lonely　life；　and　cared　for　nothing　but　his　work。　　I　was　duly

flattered　by　his　having　taken　my　frivolous　self　into　his　favour；　and

by　his　generous　sacrifice　of　precious　hours　to　my　society。　　We　spent

many　of　these　hours　among　those　early　paintings　in　which　Florence　is

so　rich；　returning　ever　and　anon；　with　restless　sympathies；　to　wonder

whether　these　tender　blossoms　of　art　had　not　a　vital　fragrance　and

savour　more　precious　than　the　full…fruited　knowledge　of　the　later

works。　　We　lingered　often　in　the　sepulchral　chapel　of　San　Lorenzo；

and　watched　Michael　Angelo's　dim…visaged　warrior　sitting　there　like

some　awful　Genius　of　Doubt　and　brooding　behind　his　eternal　mask　upon

the　mysteries　of　life。　　We　stood　more　than　once　in　the　little　convent

chambers　where　Fra　Angelico　wrought　as　if　an　angel　indeed　had　held

his　hand；　and　gathered　that　sense　of　scattered　dews　and　early　bird…

notes　which　makes　an　hour　among　his　relics　seem　like　a　morning　stroll

in　some　monkish　garden。　　We　did　all　this　and　much　morewandered　into

dark　chapels；　damp　courts；　and　dusty　palace…rooms；　in　quest　of

lingering　hints　of　fresco　and　lurking　treasures　of　carving。



I　was　more　and　more　impressed　with　my　companion's　remarkable

singleness　of　purpose。　　Everything　was　a　pretext　for　some　wildly

idealistic　rhapsody　or　reverie。　　Nothing　could　be　seen　or　said　that

did　not　lead　him　sooner　or　later　to　a　glowing　discourse　on　the　true；

the　beautiful；　and　the　good。　　If　my　friend　was　not　a　genius；　he　was

certainly　a　monomaniac；　and　I　found　as　great　a　fascination　in

watching　the　odd　lights　and　shades　of　his　character　as　if　he　had　been

a　creature　from　another　planet。　　He　seemed；　indeed；　to　know　very

little　of　this　one；　and　lived　and　moved　altogether　in　his　own　little

province　of　art。　　A　creature　more　unsullied　by　the　world　it　is

impossible　to　conceive；　and　I　often　thought　it　a　flaw　in　his　artistic

character　that　he　had　not　a　harmless　vice　or　two。　　It　amused　me

greatly　at　times　to　think　that　he　was　of　our　shrewd　Yankee　race；　but；

after　all；　there　could　be　no　better　token　of　his　American　origin　than

this　high　aesthetic　fever。　　The　very　heat　of　his　devotion　was　a　sign

of　conversion；　those　born　to　European　opportunity　manage　better　to

reconcile　enthusiasm　with　comfort。　　He　had；　moreover；　all　our　native

mistrust　for　intellectual　discretion；　and　our　na