penguin island-第14章

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Margaritone；　full　of　years　and　labours；　went　one　day　to　visit　the　studio　of　a　young　painter　who　had　lately　settled　in　the　town。　He　noticed　in　the　studio　a　freshly　painted　Madonna；　which；　although　severe　and　rigid；　nevertheless；　by　a　certain　exactness　in　the　proportions　and　a　devilish　mingling　of　light　and　shade；　assumed　an　appearance　of　relief　and　life。　At　this　sight　the　artless　and　sublime　worker　of　Arezzo　perceived　with　horror　what　the　future　of　painting　would　be。　With　his　brow　clasped　in　his　hands　he　exclaimed：

〃What　things　of　shame　does　not　this　figure　show　forth！　I　discern　in　it　the　end　of　that　Christian　art　which　paints　the　soul　and　inspires　the　beholder　with　an　ardent　desire　for　heaven。　Future　painters　will　not　restrain　themselves　as　does　this　one　to　portraying　on　the　side　of　a　wall　or　on　a　wooden　panel　the　cursed　matter　of　which　our　bodies　are　formed；　they　will　celebrate　and　glorify　it。　They　will　clothe　their　figures　with　dangerous　appearances　of　flesh；　and　these　figures　will　seem　like　real　persons。　Their　bodies　will　be　seen；　their　forms　will　appear　through　their　clothing。　St。　Magdalen　will　have　a　bosom。　St。　Martha　a　belly；　St。　Barbara　hips；　St。　Agnes　buttocks；　St。　Sebastian　will　unveil　his　youthful　beauty；　and　St。　George　will　display　beneath　his　armour　the　muscular　wealth　of　a　robust　virility；　apostles；　confessors；　doctors；　and　God　the　Father　himself　will　appear　as　ordinary　beings　like　you　and　me；　the　angels　will　affect　an　equivocal；　ambiguous；　mysterious　beauty　which　will　trouble　hearts。　What　desire　for　heaven　will　these　representations　impart？　None；　but　from　them　you　will　learn　to　take　pleasure　in　the　forms　of　terrestrial　life。　Where　will　painters　stop　in　their　indiscreet　inquiries？　They　will　stop　nowhere。　They　will　go　so　far　as　to　show　men　and　women　naked　like　the　idols　of　the　Romans。　There　will　be　a　sacred　art　and　a　profane　art；　and　the　sacred　art　will　not　be　less　profane　than　the　other。〃

〃Get　ye　behind　me；　demons；〃　exclaimed　the　old　master。　For　in　prophetic　vision　he　saw　the　righteous　and　the　saints　assuming　the　appearance　of　melancholy　athletes。　He　saw　Apollos　playing　the　lute　on　a　flowery　hill；　in　the　midst　of　the　Muses　wearing　light　tunics。　He　saw　Venuses　lying　under　shady　myrtles　and　the　Danae　exposing　their　charming　sides　to　the　golden　rain。　He　saw　pictures　of　Jesus　under　the　pillar's　of　the　temple　amidst　patricians；　fair　ladies；　musicians；　pages；　negroes；　dogs；　and　parrots。　He　saw　in　an　inextricable　confusion　of　human　limbs；　outspread　wings；　and　flying　draperies；　crowds　of　tumultuous　Nativities；　opulent　Holy　Families；　emphatic　Crucifixions。　He　saw　St。　Catherines；　St。　Barbaras；　St。　Agneses　humiliating　patricians　by　the　sumptuousness　of　their　velvets；　their　brocades；　and　their　pearls；　and　by　the　splendour　of　their　breasts。　He　saw　Auroras　scattering　roses；　and　a　multitude　of　naked　Dianas　and　Nymphs　surprised　on　the　banks　of　retired　streams。　And　the　great　Margaritone　died；　strangled　by　so　horrible　a　presentiment　of　the　Renaissance　and　the　Bolognese　School。



VI。　MARBODIUS

We　possess　a　precious　monument　of　the　Penguin　literature　of　the　fifteenth　century。　It　is　a　narrative　of　a　journey　to　hell　undertaken　by　the　monk　Marbodius；　of　the　order　of　St。　Benedict；　who　professed　a　fervent　admiration　for　the　poet　Virgil。　This　narrative；　written　in　fairly　good　Latin；　has　been　published　by　M。　du　Clos　des　Limes。　It　is　here　translated　for　the　first　time。　I　believe　that　I　am　doing　a　service　to　my　fellow…countrymen　in　making　them　acquainted　with　these　pages；　though　doubtless　they　are　far　from　forming　a　unique　example　of　this　class　of　mediaeval　Latin　literature。　Among　the　fictions　that　may　be　compared　with　them　we　may　mention　〃The　Voyage　of　St。　Brendan；〃　〃The　Vision　of　Albericus；〃　and　〃St。　Patrick's　Purgatory；〃　imaginary　descriptions；　like　Dante　Alighieri's　〃Divine　Comedy；〃　of　the　supposed　abode　of　the　dead。　The　narrative　of　Marbodius　is　one　of　the　latest　works　dealing　with　this　theme；　but　it　is　not　the　least　singular。

THE　DESCENT　OF　MARBODIUS　INTO　HELL

In　the　fourteen　hundred　and　fifty…third　year　of　the　incarnation　of　the　Son　of　God；　a　few　days　before　the　enemies　of　the　Cross　entered　the　city　of　Helena　and　the　great　Constantine；　it　was　given　to　me；　Brother　Marbodius；　an　unworthy　monk；　to　see　and　to　hear　what　none　had　hitherto　seen　or　heard。　I　have　composed　a　faithful　narrative　of　those　things　so　that　their　memory　may　not　perish　with　me；　for　man's　time　is　short。

On　the　first　day　of　May　in　the　aforesaid　year；　at　the　hour　of　vespers；　I　was　seated　in　the　Abbey　of　Corrigan　on　a　stone　in　the　cloisters　and；　as　my　custom　was；　I　read　the　verses　of　the　poet　whom　I　love　best　of　all；　Virgil；　who　has　sung　of　the　labours：　of　the　field；　of　shepherds；　and　of　heroes。　Evening　was　hanging　its　purple　folds　from　the　arches　of　the　cloisters　and　in　a　voice　of　emotion　I　was　murmuring　the　verses　which　describe　how　Dido；　the　Phoenician　queen；　wanders　with　her　ever…bleeding　wound　beneath　the　myrtles　of　hell。　At　that　moment　Brother　Hilary　happened　to　pass　by；　followed　by　Brother　Jacinth；　the　porter。

Brought　up　in　the　barbarous　ages　before　the　resurrection　of　the　Muses；　Brother　Hilary　has　not　been　initiated　into　the　wisdom　of　the　ancients；　nevertheless；　the　poetry　of　the　Mantuan　has；　like　a　subtle　torch；　shed　some　gleams　of　light　into　his　understanding。

〃Brother　Marbodius；〃　he　asked　me；　〃do　those　verses　that　you　utter　with　swelling　breast　and　sparkling　eyesdo　they　belong　to　that　great　'Aeneid'　from　which　morning　or　evening　your　glances　are　never　withheld？〃

I　answered　that　I　was　reading　in　Virgil　how　the　son　of　Anchises　perceived　Dido　like　a　moon　behind　the　foliage。*

*　The　text　runs

　　　　。　。　。qualem　primo　qui　syrgere　mense　　　Aut　videt　aut　vidisse　putat　per　nubila　lunam。

Brother　Marbodius；　by　a　strange　misunderstanding；　substitutes　an　entirely　different　image　for　the　one　created　by　the　poet。


〃Brother　Marbodius；〃　he　replied；　〃I　am　certain　that　on　all　occasions　Virgil　gives　expression　to　wise　maxims　and　profound　thoughts。　But　the　songs　that　he　modulates　on　his　Syracusan　flute　hold　such　a　lofty　meaning　and　such　exalted　doctrine　that　I　am　continually　puzzled　by　them。〃

〃Take　care；　father；〃　cried　Brother　Jacinth；　in　an　agitated　voice。　〃Virgil　was　a　magician　who　wrought　marvels　by　the　help　of　demons。　It　is　thus　he　pierced　through　a　mountain　near　Naples　and　fashioned　a　bronze　horse　that　had　power　to　heal　all　the　diseases　of　horses。　He　was　a　necromancer；　and　there　is　still　shown；　in　a　certain　town　in　Italy；　the　mirror　in　which　he　made　the　dead　appear。　And　yet　a　woman　deceived　this　great　sorcerer。　A　Neapolitan　courtesan　invited　him　to　hoist　himself　up　to　her　window　in　the　basket　that　was　used　to　bring　the　provisions；　and　she　left　him　all　night　suspended　between　two　storeys。〃

Brother　Hilary　did　not　appear　to　hear　these　observations。

〃Virgil　is　a　prophet；〃　he　replied；　〃and　a　prophet　who　leaves　far　behind　him　the　sibyls　with　their　sacred　verses　as　well　as　the　daughter　of　King　Priam；　and　that　great　diviner　of　future　things；　Plato　of　Athens。　You　will　find　in　the　fourth　of　his　Syracusan　cantos　the　birth　of　our　Lord　foretold　in　a　lancune　that　seems　of　heaven　rather　than　of　earth。*　In　the　time　of　my　early　studies；　when　I　read　for　the　first　time　JAM　REDIT　ET　VIRGO；　I　felt　myself　bathed　in　an　infinite　delight；　but　I　immediately　experienced　intense　grief　at　the　thought　that；　for　ever　deprived　of　the　presence　of　God；　the　author　of　this　prophetic　verse；　the　noblest　that　has　come　from　human　lips；　was　pining　among　the　heathen　in　eternal　darkness。　This　cruel　thought　did　not　leave　me。　It　pursued　me　even　in　my　studies；　my　prayers；　my　meditations；　and　my　ascetic　labours。　Thinkin　that　Virgil　was　deprived　of　the　sight　of　God　and　that　possibly　he　might　even　be　suffering　the　fate　of　the　reprobate　in　hell；　I　could　neither　enjoy　peace　nor　rest；　and　I　went　so　far　as　to　exclaim　several　times　a　day　with　my　arms　outstretched　to　heaven：

〃　'Reveal　to　me；　O　Lord；　the　lot　thou　hast　assigned　to　him　who　sang　on　earth　as　the　angels　sing　in　heaven！'

*Three　centuries　before　the　epoch　in　which　our　Marbodius　lived　the　words　　　　　　　　Maro；　vates　gentilium　　　　　　Da　Christo　testimonium　　　Were　sung　in　the　churches　on　Christmas　Day。


〃After　some　years　my　anguish　ceased　when　I　read　in　an　old　book　that　the　great　apostle　St。　Paul；　who　called　the　Gentiles　into　the　Church　of　Christ；　went　to　Naples　and　sanctified　with　his　tears　the　tomb　of　the　prince　of　poets。*　This　was　some　ground　for　believing　that　Virgil；　like　the　Emperor　Trajan；　was　admitted　to　Paradise　because　even　in　error　he　had　a　presentiment　of　the　truth。　We　are　not　compelled　to　believe　it；　but　I　can　easily　persuade　myself　that　it　is　true。〃

　　　*Ad　maronis　mausoleum　　　　　Ductus；　fudit　super　eum　　　　　Piae　rorem　lacrymae。　　　　　Quem　te；　intuit；　reddidissem；　　　　　Si　te　vivum　invenissem　　　　　Poetarum　maxime！


Having　thus　spoken；　old　Hilary　wished　me　the　peace　of　a　holy　night　and　went　away　with　Brother　Jacinth。

I　resumed　the　delightful　study　of　my　poet。　Book　in　hand；　I　meditated　upon　the　way　in　which　those　whom　Love　destroys　with　its　cruel　malady　wander　through　the　secret　paths　in　the　depth　of　the　myrtle　forest；　and；　as　I　meditated；　the　quivering　reflections　of　the　stars　came　and　mingled　with　those　of　the　leafless　eglantines　in　the　waters　of　the　cloister　fountain。　Suddenly　the　lights　and　the　perfumes　and　the　stillness　of　the　sky　were　overwhelmed；　a　fierce　Northwind　charged　with　storm　and　darkness　burst　roaring　upon　me。　It　lifted　me　up　and　carried　me　like　a　wisp　of　straw　over　fields；　cities；　rivers；　and　mountains；　and　through　the　midst　of　thunder…clouds；　during　a　long　night　composed　of　a　whole　series　of　nights　and　days。　And　when；　after　this　prolonged　and　cruel　rage；　the　hurricane　was　at　last　stilled；　I　found　myself　far　from　my　native　land　at　the　bottom　of　a　valley　bordered　by　cypress　trees。　Then　a　woman　of　wild　beauty；　trailing　long　garments　behind　her；　approached　me。　She　placed　her　left　hand　on　my　shoulder；　and；　pointing　her　right　arm　to　an　oak　with　thick　foliage：

〃Look！〃　said　she　to　me。

Immediately　I　recognised　the　Sibyl　who　guards　the　sacred　wood　of　Avernus；　and　I　discerned　the　fair　Proserpine's　beautiful　golden　twig　amongst　the　tufted　boughs　of　the　tree　to　which　her　finger　pointed。

〃O　prophetic　Virgin；〃　I　exclaimed；　〃thou　hast　comprehended　my　desire　and　thou　hast　satisfied　it　in　this　way。　Thou　hast　revealed　to　me　the　tree　that　bears　the　shining　twig　without　which　none　can　enter　alive　into　the　dwelling…place　of　the　dead。　And　in　truth；　eagerly　did　I　long　to　converse　with　the　shade　of　Virgil。〃

Having　said　this；　I　snatched　the　golden　branch　from　its　ancient　trunk　and　I　advanced　without　fear　into　the　smoking　gulf　that　leads　to　the　miry　banks　of　the　Styx；　upon　which　the　shades　are　tossed　about　like　dead　leaves。　At　sight　of　the　branch　dedicated　to　Proserpine；　Charon　took　me　in　his　bark；　which　groaned　beneath　my　weight；　and　I　alighted　on　the　shores　of　the　dead；　and　was　greeted　by　the　mute　baying　of　the　threefold　Cerberus。　I　pretended　to　throw　the　shade　of　a　stone　at　him；　and　the　vain　monster　fled　into　his　cave。　There；　amidst　the　rushes；　wandered　the　souls　of　those　children　whose　eyes　had　but　opened　and　shut　to　the　kindly　light　of　day；　and　there　in　a　gloomy　cavern　Minos　judges　men。　I　penetrated　into　the　myrtle　woo