Peacefully and reasonably to contemplate is at no time hurtful, and while we use ourselves to think of the advantages of others, our own mind comes insensibly to imitate them; and every false activity to which our fancy was alluring us is then willingly abandoned.
To these the glorious artist added next, With various skill delineated exact, A labyrinth for the dance, such as of old In Crete's broad island Dædalus composed For bright-hair'd Ariadne. There the youths And youth-alluring maidens, hand in hand, Danced jocund, every maiden neat-attired In finest linen, and the youths in vests Well-woven, glossy as the glaze of oil. These all wore garlands, and bright falchions, those, Of burnish'd gold in silver trappings hung:-- They with well-tutor'd step, now nimbly ran The circle, swift, as when, before his wheel Seated, the potter twirls it with both hands For trial of its speed, now, crossing quick They pass'd at once into each other's place. On either side spectators numerous stood Delighted, and two tumblers roll'd themselves Between the dancers, singing as they roll'd.
2:14. Having eyes full of adultery and of sin that ceaseth not: alluring unstable souls: having their heart exercised with covetousness: children of malediction.
"Thus I shall rejoice when Mademoiselle Eugenie perceives I am but a pitiful atom, with scarcely as many hundred thousand francs as she has millions." Monte Cristo smiled. "One plan occurred to me," continued Albert; "Franz likes all that is eccentric; I tried to make him fall in love with Mademoiselle Danglars; but in spite of four letters, written in the most alluring style, he invariably answered: 'My eccentricity may be great, but it will not make me break my promise.'"
"After a month of hopeless love and moral degradation, during which he betrayed his betrothed and appropriated money entrusted to his honor, the prisoner was driven almost to frenzy, almost to madness by continual jealousy--and of whom? His father! And the worst of it was that the crazy old man was alluring and enticing the object of his affection by means of that very three thousand roubles, which the son looked upon as his own property, part of his inheritance from his mother, of which his father was cheating him. Yes, I admit it was hard to bear! It might well drive a man to madness. It was not the money, but the fact that this money was used with such revolting cynicism to ruin his happiness!"
"Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket of the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress of your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. 'Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.'
As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Her splendid teeth had evidently received an office from God,--laughter. She preferred to carry her little hat of sewed straw, with its long white strings, in her hand rather than on her head. Her thick blond hair, which was inclined to wave, and which easily uncoiled, and which it was necessary to fasten up incessantly, seemed made for the flight of Galatea under the willows. Her rosy lips babbled enchantingly. The corners of her mouth voluptuously turned up, as in the antique masks of Erigone, had an air of encouraging the audacious; but her long, shadowy lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity of the lower part of the face as though to call a halt. There was something indescribably harmonious and striking about her entire dress. She wore a gown of mauve barege, little reddish brown buskins, whose ribbons traced an X on her fine, white, open-worked stockings, and that sort of muslin spencer, a Marseilles invention, whose name, canezou, a corruption of the words quinze aout, pronounced after the fashion of the Canebiere, signifies fine weather, heat, and midday. The three others, less timid, as we have already said, wore low-necked dresses without disguise, which in summer, beneath flower-adorned hats, are very graceful and enticing; but by the side of these audacious outfits, blond Fantine's canezou, with its transparencies, its indiscretion, and its reticence, concealing and displaying at one and the same time, seemed an alluring godsend of decency, and the famous Court of Love, presided over by the Vicomtesse de Cette, with the sea-green eyes, would, perhaps, have awarded the prize for coquetry to this canezou, in the contest for the prize of modesty. The most ingenious is, at times, the wisest. This does happen.
This midnight-spout had almost grown a forgotten thing, when, some days after, lo! at the same silent hour, it was again announced: again it was descried by all; but upon making sail to overtake it, once more it disappeared as if it had never been. And so it served us night after night, till no one heeded it but to wonder at it. Mysteriously jetted into the clear moonlight, or starlight, as the case might be; disappearing again for one whole day, or two days, or three; and somehow seeming at every distinct repetition to be advancing still further and further in our van, this solitary jet seemed for ever alluring us on.
Slowly wading through the meadows of brit, the Pequod still held on her way north-eastward towards the island of Java; a gentle air impelling her keel, so that in the surrounding serenity her three tall tapering masts mildly waved to that languid breeze, as three mild palms on a plain. And still, at wide intervals in the silvery night, the lonely, alluring jet would be seen.
HARDY, THOMAS (1840- ), English novelist, was born in Dorsetshire on the 2nd of June 1840. His family was one of the branches of the Dorset Hardys, formerly of influence in and near the valley of the Frome, claiming descent from John Le Hardy of Jersey (son of Clement Le Hardy, lieutenant-governor of that island in 1488), who settled in the west of England. His maternal ancestors were the Swetman, Childs or Child, and kindred families, who before and after 1635 were small landed proprietors in Melbury Osmond, Dorset, and adjoining parishes. He was educated at local schools, 1848-1854, and afterwards privately, and in 1856 was articled to Mr John Hicks, an ecclesiastical architect of Dorchester. In 1859 he began writing verse and essays, but in 1861 was compelled to apply himself more strictly to architecture, sketching and measuring many old Dorset churches with a view to their restoration. In 1862 he went to London (which he had first visited at the age of nine) and became assistant to the late Sir Arthur Blomfield, R.A. In 1863 he won the medal of the Royal Institute of British Architects for an essay on _Coloured Brick and Terra-cotta Architecture_, and in the same year won the prize of the Architectural Association for design. In March 1865 his first short story was published in _Chambers's Journal_, and during the next two or three years he wrote a good deal of verse, being somewhat uncertain whether to take to architecture or to literature as a profession. In 1867 he left London for Weymouth, and during that and the following year wrote a "purpose" story, which in 1869 was accepted by Messrs Chapman and Hall. The manuscript had been read by Mr George Meredith, who asked the writer to call on him, and advised him not to print it, but to try another, with more plot. The manuscript was withdrawn and re-written, but never published. In 1870 Mr Hardy took Mr Meredith's advice too literally, and constructed a novel that was all plot, which was published in 1871 under the title _Desperate Remedies_. In 1872 appeared _Under the Greenwood Tree_, a "rural painting of the Dutch school," in which Mr Hardy had already "found himself," and which he has never surpassed in happy and delicate perfection of art. _A Pair of Blue Eyes_, in which tragedy and irony come into his work together, was published in 1873. In 1874 Mr Hardy married Emma Lavinia, daughter of the late T. Attersoll Gifford of Plymouth. His first popular success was made by _Far from the Madding Crowd_ (1874), which, on its appearance anonymously in the _Cornhill Magazine_, was attributed by many to George Eliot. Then came _The Hand of Ethelberta_ (1876), described, not inaptly, as "a comedy in chapters"; _The Return of the Native_ (1878), the most sombre and, in some ways, the most powerful and characteristic of Mr Hardy's novels; _The Trumpet-Major_ (1880); _A Laodicean_ (1881); _Two on a Tower_ (1882), a long excursion in constructive irony; _The Mayor of Casterbridge_ (1886); _The Woodlanders_ (1887); _Wessex Tales_ (1888); _A Group of Noble Dames_ (1891); _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ (1891), Mr Hardy's most famous novel; _Life's Little Ironies_ (1894); _Jude the Obscure_ (1895), his most thoughtful and least popular book; _The Well-Beloved_, a reprint, with some revision, of a story originally published in the _Illustrated London News_ in 1892 (1897); _Wessex Poems_, written during the previous thirty years, with illustrations by the author (1898); and _The Dynasts_ (2 parts, 1904-1906). In 1909 appeared _Time's Laughing-stocks and other Verses_. In all his work Mr Hardy is concerned with one thing, seen under two aspects; not civilization, nor manners, but the principle of life itself, invisibly realized in humanity as sex, seen visibly in the world as what we call nature. He is a fatalist, perhaps rather a determinist, and he studies the workings of fate or law (ruling through inexorable moods or humours), in the chief vivifying and disturbing influence in life, women. His view of women is more French than English; it is subtle, a little cruel, not as tolerant as it seems, thoroughly a man's point of view, and not, as with Mr Meredith, man's and woman's at once. He sees all that is irresponsible for good and evil in a woman's character, all that is untrustworthy in her brain and will, all that is alluring in her variability. He is her apologist, but always with a reserve of private judgment. No one has created more attractive women of a certain class, women whom a man would have been more likely to love or to regret loving. In his earlier books he is somewhat careful over the reputation of his heroines; gradually he allows them more liberty, with a franker treatment of instinct and its consequences. _Jude the Obscure_ is perhaps the most unbiassed consideration in English fiction of the more complicated questions of sex. There is almost no passion in his work, neither the author nor his characters ever seeming able to pass beyond the state of curiosity, the most intellectually interesting of limitations, under the influence of any emotion. In his feeling for nature, curiosity sometimes seems to broaden into a more intimate communion. The heath, the village with its peasants, the change of every hour among the fields and on the roads of that English countryside which he has made his own--the Dorsetshire and Wiltshire "Wessex"--mean more to him, in a sense, than even the spectacle of man and woman in their blind and painful and absorbing struggle for existence. His knowledge of woman confirms him in a suspension of judgment; his knowledge of nature brings him nearer to the unchanging and consoling element in the world. All the entertainment which he gets out of life comes to him from his contemplation of the peasant, as himself a rooted part of the earth, translating the dumbness of the fields into humour. His peasants have been compared with Shakespeare's; he has the Shakespearean sense of their placid vegetation by the side of hurrying animal life, to which they act the part of chorus, with an unconscious wisdom in their close, narrow and undistracted view of things. The order of merit was conferred upon Mr Hardy in July 1910. Entry: HARDY
It is proposed, in conclusion, to give an account of the broad aspects of mimicry, and attempt a brief discussion of the theories of origin of each class of facts (see Poulton, _Linn. Soc. Journ. Zool._, 1898, p. 558). It will be found that in many cases the argument here made use of applies equally to the origin of cryptic and sematic colours. The relationship between these classes has been explained: mimicry is, as Wallace has stated (_Darwinism_, London, 1889), merely "an exceptional form of protective resemblance. "Now, protective (cryptic) resemblance cannot be explained on any of the lines suggested above, except natural selection; even sexual selection fails, because cryptic resemblance is especially common in the immature stages of insect life. But it would be unreasonable to explain mimetic resemblance by one set of principles and cryptic by another and totally different set. Again, it may be plausible to explain the mimicry of one butterfly for another on one of the suggested lines, but the resemblance of a fly or moth to a wasp is by no means so easy, and here selection would be generally conceded; yet the appeal to antagonistic principles to explain such closely related cases would only be justified by much direct evidence. Furthermore, the mimetic resemblances between butterflies are not haphazard, but the models almost invariably belong only to certain sub-families, the _Danainae_ and _Acraeinae_ in all the warmer parts of the world, and, in tropical America, the _Ithomiinae_ and _Heliconinae_ as well. These groups have the characteristics of aposematic species, and no theory but natural selection explains their invariable occurrence as models wherever they exist. It is impossible to suggest, except by natural selection, any explanation of the fact that mimetic resemblances are confined to changes which produce or strengthen a superficial likeness. Very deep-seated changes are generally involved, inasmuch as the appropriate instincts as to attitude, &c., are as important as colour and marking. The same conclusion is reached when we analyse the nature of mimetic resemblance and realize how complex it really is, being made up of _colours_, both pigmentary and structural, _pattern_, _form_, _attitude_ and _movement_. A plausible interpretation of colour may be wildly improbable when applied to some other element, and there is _no_ explanation except natural selection which can explain all these elements. The appeal to the direct action of local conditions in common often breaks down upon the slightest investigation, the difference in habits between mimic and model in the same locality causing the most complete divergence in their conditions of life. Thus many insects produced from burrowing larvae mimic those whose larvae live in the open. Mimetic resemblance is far commoner in the female than in the male, a fact readily explicable by selection, as suggested by Wallace, for the female is compelled to fly more slowly and to expose itself while laying eggs, and hence a resemblance to the slow-flying freely exposed models is especially advantageous. The facts that mimetic species occur in the same locality, fly at the same time of the year as their models, and are day-flying species even though they may belong to nocturnal groups, are also more or less difficult to explain except on the theory of natural selection, and so also is the fact that mimetic resemblance is produced in the most varied manner. A spider resembles its model, an ant, by a modification of its body-form into a superficial resemblance, and by holding one pair of legs to represent antennae; certain bugs (Hemiptera) and beetles have also gained a shape unusual in their respective groups, a shape which superficially resembles an ant; a Locustid (_Myrmecophana_) has the shape of an ant painted, as it were, on its body, all other parts resembling the background and invisible; a Membracid (Homoptera) is entirely unlike an ant, but is concealed by an ant-like shield. When we further realize that in this and other examples of mimicry "the likeness is almost always detailed and remarkable, however it is attained, while the methods differ absolutely," we recognize that natural selection is the only possible explanation hitherto suggested. In the cases of aggressive mimicry an animal resembles some object which is attractive to its prey. Examples are found in the flower-like species of _Mantis_, which attract the insects on which they feed. Such cases are generally described as possessing "alluring colours," and are regarded as examples of aggressive (anticryptic) resemblance, but their logical position is here. Entry: 1
When Filelfo arrived at Venice with his family in 1427, he found that the city had almost been emptied by the plague, and that his scholars would be few. He therefore removed to Bologna; but here also he was met with drawbacks. The city was too much disturbed with political dissensions to attend to him; so Filelfo crossed the Apennines and settled in Florence. At Florence began one of the most brilliant and eventful periods of his life. During the week he lectured to large audiences of young and old on the principal Greek and Latin authors, and on Sundays he explained Dante to the people in the Duomo. In addition to these labours of the chair, he found time to translate portions of Aristotle, Plutarch, Xenophon and Lysias from the Greek. Nor was he dead to the claims of society. At first he seems to have lived with the Florentine scholars on tolerably good terms; but his temper was so arrogant that Cosimo de' Medici's friends were not long able to put up with him. Filelfo hereupon broke out into open and violent animosity; and when Cosimo was exiled by the Albizzi party in 1433, he urged the signoria of Florence to pronounce upon him the sentence of death. On the return of Cosimo to Florence, Filelfo's position in that city was no longer tenable. His life, he asserted, had been already once attempted by a cut-throat in the pay of the Medici; and now he readily accepted an invitation from the state of Siena. In Siena, however, he was not destined to remain more than four years. His fame as a professor had grown great in Italy, and he daily received tempting offers from princes and republics. The most alluring of these, made him by the duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti, he decided on accepting; and in 1440 he was received with honour by his new master in the capital of Lombardy. Entry: FILELFO
Sexual dimorphism is frequent among the Lepidoptera. In many families this takes the form of more elaborate feelers in the male than in the female moth. Such complex feelers (fig. 2) bear numerous sensory (olfactory) nerve-endings and give to the males that possess them a wonderful power of discovering their mates. A single captive female of the Endromidae or Lasiocampidae often causes hundreds of males of her species to "assemble" around her prison, and this character is made use of by collectors who want to secure specimens. In many butterflies--notably the "blues" (Lycaenidae)--the male is brilliant while the female is dull, and in other groups (the Danainae for example) he is provided with scent-producing glands believed to be "alluring" in function. The apparent evidence given by the sexual differences among the Lepidoptera in favour of C. Darwin's theory of sexual selection finds no support from a study of their habits. The male indeed usually seeks the female, but she appears to exercise no choice in pairing. In some cases the female is attracted by the male, and here a modified form of sexual selection appears to be operative. The ghost swift moth (_Hepialus humuli_) affords a curious and interesting example of this condition, the female showing the usual brown and buff coloration of her genus, while the wings of the male are pure white, rendering him conspicuous in the dusky evening when pairing takes place. But in the northernmost haunts of the species, where there is no midsummer night, the male closely resembles the female in wing patterns, the development of the conspicuous white being needless. A very interesting sexual dimorphism is seen in the wingless condition of several female moths--the winter moths (_Hybernia_ and _Cheimatobia_) among the Geometridae and the vapourers (_Orgyia_ and _Ocneria_) among the Lymantriidae for example (fig. 17). It might be thought that the loss of power of flight by the female would seriously restrict the range of the species. In such insects, however, the caterpillars are often active and travel far. Entry: FIG
The two genuine modes of idealization, the subjective and the objective, are not always easy to be reconciled. The greatest artist is no doubt he who can combine the strongest personal instincts of preference with the keenest power of observing characteristics as they are, yet in fact we find few in whom both these elements of the ideal faculty have been equally developed. To take an example among Florentine painters, Sandro Botticelli is usually thought of as one who could never escape from the dictation of his own personal ideals, in obedience to which he is supposed to have invested all the creations of his art with nearly the same conformation of brows, lips, cheeks and chin, nearly the same looks of wistful yearning and dejection. There is some truth in this impression, though it is largely based on the works not of the master himself, but of pupils who exaggerated his mannerisms. Leonardo da Vinci was strong in both directions; haunted in much of his work by a particular human ideal of intellectual sweetness and alluring mystery, he has yet left us a vast number of exercises which show him as an indefatigable student of objective characteristics and psychological expressions of an order the most opposed to this. And in this case again followers have over-emphasized the master's predilections, Luini, Sodoma and the rest borrowing and repeating the mysterious smile of Leonardo till it becomes in their work an affectation cloying however lovely. Among latter-day painters, Burne-Jones will occur to every reader as the type of an artist always haunted and dominated by ideals of an intensely personal cast partly engendered in his imagination by sympathy with the early Florentines. If we seek for examples of the opposite principle, of that idealism which idealizes above all things objectively, and seeks to disengage the very inmost and individual characters of the thing or person before it, we think naturally of certain great masters of the northern schools, as Dürer, Holbein and Rembrandt. Dürer's endeavour to express such characters by the most searching intensity of linear definition was, however, hampered and conditioned by his inherited national and Gothic predilection for the strained in gesture and the knotted and the gnarled in structure, against which his deliberate scholarly ambition to establish a canon of ideal proportion contended for the most part in vain. And Rembrandt's profound spiritual insight into human character and personality did not prevent him from plunging his subjects, ever deeper and deeper as his life advanced, into a mysterious shadow-world of his own imagination, where all local colours were broken up and crumbled, and where amid the struggle of gloom and gleam he could make his intensely individualized men and women breathe more livingly than in plain human daylight. Entry: 2
The art of Gozzoli does not rival that of his greatest contemporaries either in elevation or in strength, but is pre-eminently attractive by its sense of what is rich, winning, lively and abundant in the aspects of men and things. His landscapes, thronged with birds and quadrupeds, especially dogs, are more varied, circumstantial and alluring than those of any predecessor; his compositions are crowded with figures, more characteristically true when happily and gracefully occupied than when the demands of the subject require tragic or dramatic intensity, or turmoil of action; his colour is bright, vivacious and festive. Gozzoli's genius was, on the whole, more versatile and assimilative than vigorously original; his drawing not free from considerable imperfections, especially in the extremities and articulations, and in the perspective of his gorgeously-schemed buildings. In fresco-painting he used the methods of tempera, and the decay of his works has been severe in proportion. Of his untiring industry the recital of his labours and the number of works produced are the most forcible attestation. Entry: GOZZOLI