" While I am
quite willing to exalt the cuff within reason, it scarcely seems
such an entirely new subject for literature as the Futurists imagine.
It seems to me that even through the slumber which fills the Siege
of Troy, the Song of Roland, and the Orlando Furioso, and in spite
of the thoughtful immobility which marks "Pantagruel," "Henry V,"
and the Ballad of Chevy Chase, there are occasional gleams
of an admiration for courage, a readiness to glorify the love
of danger, and even the "strengt of daring," I seem to remember,
slightly differently spelt, somewhere in literature.
The distinction, however, seems to be that the warriors of
the past went in for tournaments, which were at least dangerous
for themselves, while the Futurists go in for motor-cars,
which are mainly alarming for other people. It is the Futurist
in his motor who does the "aggressive movement," but it is the
pedestrians who go in for the "running" and the "perilous leap."
Section No. 4 says, "We declare that the splendour of the world
has been enriched with a new form of beauty, the beauty of speed.
A race-automobile adorned with great pipes like serpents
with explosive breath. ... A race-automobile which seems
to rush over exploding powder is more beautiful than the Victory
of Samothrace." It is also much easier, if you have the money.
It is quite clear, however, that you cannot be a Futurist at
all unless you are frightfully rich.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87