I confess that when first I made acquaintance with Charles Strickland I never for a moment discerned that there was in him anything out of the ordinary. Yet now few will be found to deny his greatness. I do not speak of that greatness which is achieved by the fortunate politician or the successful soldier; that is a quality which belongs to the place he occupies rather than to the man; and a change of circumstances reduces it to very discreet proportions. The Prime Minister out of office is seen, too often, to have been but a pompous rhetorician, and the General without an army is but the tame hero of a market town. The greatness of Charles Strickland was authentic. It may be that you do not like his art, but at all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute of your interest. He disturbs and arrests. The time has passed when he was an object of ridicule, and it is no longer a mark of eccentricity to defend or of perversity to extol him. His faults are accepted as the necessary complement to his merits. It is still possible to discuss his place in art, and the adulation of his admirers is perhaps no less capricious than the disparagement of his detractors; but one thing can never be doubtful, and that is that he had genius. To my mind the most interesting thing in art is the personality of the artist; and if that is singular, I am willing to excuse a thousand faults. I suppose Velasquez was a better painter than El Greco, but custom stales one's admiration for him: the Cretan, sensual and tragic, proffers the mystery of his soul like a standing sacrifice. The artist, painter, poet, or musician, by his decoration, sublime or beautiful, satisfies the aesthetic sense; but that is akin to the sexual instinct, and shares its barbarity: he lays before you also the greater gift of himself. To pursue his secret has something of the fascination of a detective story. It is a riddle which shares with the universe the merit of having no answer. The most insignificant of Strickland's works suggests a personality which is strange, tormented, and complex; and it is this surely which prevents even those who do not like his pictures from being indifferent to them; it is this which has excited so curious an interest in his life and character.
老实说,我刚刚认识查理斯·思特里克兰德的时候,从来没注意到这个人有什么与众不同的地方,但是今天却很少有人不承认他的伟大了。我所谓的伟大不是走红运的政治家或是立战功的军人的伟大;这种人显赫一时,与其说是他们本身的特质倒不如说沾了他们地位的光,一旦事过境迁,他们的伟大也就黯然失色了。人们常常发现一位离了职的首相当年只不过是个大言不惭的演说家;一个解甲归田的将军无非是个平淡乏味的市井英雄。但是查理斯·思特里克兰德的伟大却是真正的伟大。你可能不喜欢他的艺术,但无论如何你不能不对它感到兴趣。他的作品使你不能平静,扣紧你的心弦。思特里克兰德受人挪揄讥嘲的时代已经过去了,为他辩护或甚至对他赞誉也不再被看作是某些人的奇行怪癖了。他的瑕疵在世人的眼中已经成为他的优点的必不可少的派生物。他在艺术史上的地位尽可以继续争论。崇拜者对他的赞颂同贬抑者对他的诋毁固然都可能出于偏颇和任性,但是有一点是不容置疑的,那就是他具有天才。在我看来,艺术中最令人感兴趣的就是艺术家的个性;如果艺术家赋有独特的性格,尽管他有一千个缺点,我也可以原谅。我料想,委拉斯凯兹【迪埃戈·罗德里盖斯·德·西尔瓦·委拉斯凯兹(1599—1660),西班牙画家】是个比埃尔·格列柯【埃尔·格列柯(1541—1614?),西班牙画家,生于克里特岛】更高超的画家,可是由于所见过多,却使我们感到他的绘画有些乏味。而那位克里特岛画家的作品却有一种肉欲和悲剧性的美,仿佛作为永恒的牺牲似地把自己灵魂的秘密呈献出来。一个艺术家——画家也好,诗人也好,音乐家也好,用他的崇高的或者美丽的作品把世界装点起来,满足了人们的审美意识,但这也同人类的性本能不无相似的地方,都有其粗野狂暴的一面。在把作品奉献给世人的同时,艺术家也把他个人的伟大才能呈现到你眼前。探索一个艺术家的秘密颇有些阅读侦探小说的迷人劲儿。这个奥秘同大自然极相似,其妙处就在于无法找到答案。思特里克兰德的最不足道的作品也使你模糊看到他的奇特、复杂、受着折磨的性格;那些不喜欢他的绘画的人之所以不能对他漠不关心,肯定是因为这个原因。也正是这一点,使得那么多人对他的生活和性格充满了好奇心和浓厚的兴趣。
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