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Updated: April 30, 2025
If he is without passion, as some are ready to declare, so are Stendhal and Turguenieff, and half the great masters of the novel; and if he seems sometimes to evade the tragic or rapturous moments, it is perhaps only that he may make his reader his co-partner, that he may evoke from us that heat of sympathy and intelligence which supplies the necessary atmosphere for the subtler and greater kinds of art.
He was one whose brain a lunar ray had penetrated; but this ray was transposed to a spectrum of gorgeous hues. Capable of depicting the rainbow, he died of the opalescence that clouded his glass of absinthe. Pauvre Fada! It is only a coincidence, yet a curious one, that two such dissimilar spirits as Stendhal and Monticelli should have predicted their future popularity.
For his treatment of that girl, punishment should follow. That girl! Obscurely, in the laboratory of the senses where, without our knowledge, often against our will, our impulses are dictated, a process, intricate and interesting, which Stendhal called crystallisation, was at work. Unaware of that, conscious only of the moment, to his face had come the look and menace of the wolf. Now !
A defect becomes an admired focus of attention, the embodied symbol of the lover's emotion. Thus a mole is not in itself beautiful, but by the tendency to erotic symbolism it becomes so. Stendhal long since well described the process by which a defect becomes a sexual symbol.
The work, as has been shown, assumed its final form before the close of the eighteenth century; with the nineteenth it commenced its triumphant progress over the civilised world. Some of the subsequent transformations and migrations of the book are worthy of brief record. A voluminous German continuation was published at Stendhal in three volumes between 1794 and 1800.
Stendhal does not admire these clocks, but he almost does. He admires Domenichino and Guer- cino, and prizes the Bolognese school of painters be- cause they "spoke to the soul." He is a votary of the new classic, is fond of tall, squire, regular buildings, and thinks Nantes, for instance, full of the "air noble."
There are probably only a few secret agents waiting for us here. What do you say?" "Yes," said Mr. Jermyn. "I myself should say this. Send the boy on at once to Egmont with a note to Stendhal the merchant there. They won't suspect the boy. They won't bother to follow him, probably. Tell Stendhal to send Out a galliot to take Argyle off the schooner while at sea.
It is that closing-in of our own possibilities that we must avoid. He cries, "They have stricken me, and I was not sick; they have beaten me, and I felt it not. When shall I awake? I will seek it yet again." We are a curious nation, we English! Stendhal says that our two most patent vices are bashfulness and cant.
On the subject of Touraine, Stendhal is extremely refresh- ing; he finds the scenery meagre and much overrated, and proclaims his opinion with perfect frankness.
He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy bloom; Nor heed nor see what things they be, But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality. See De Stendhal, Histoire de la Peinture en Italie, p. 143, for this story. In the Treatise on Painting, da Vinci argues strongly against isolating man.
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