J. H. Shorthouse

“ The most favourite one still continued to be the proposition that Mark should be induced, by fair means or foul, to take a part upon the stage. His own character—the rôle which he instinctively played—was so absolutely original and fresh that the universal opinion was confident of the success of such a performance.
"By some means or other," said old Carricchio, "he must be got to act."
"You may do what you will with him," said the Signorina sadly; "he will die. He is too good to live. Like my little brother and the poor canary, he will die." ”

“ How can life or religion be an art when the merest accident can dissolve the entire fabric at a blow? No art can exist in the presence of an impalpable mystery, of an unknown, inappeasable, implacable Force."
"No," said the Princess; "art is not [128] enough!—morality, virtue, love even, is not enough. None of these can pierce the veil. Nothing profits, save the Divine Humanity, which, through the mystery of Sacrifice, has entered the unseen. You know, Ferdinand," and she looked up through her tears with a sad smile, "in your art there was always in old times a mystery." ”

“ Veiled in cloud and recognised in thunders, a divine and merciful hand is laid upon the child. Death comes to him as a sleep, and over his dead and lovely form the anger of heaven is appeased. Incapable as the Maestro was of feeling much of the pathos and beauty of his own work, still, with that wonderful instinct, or art, or genius, which supplies the place of feeling, he produced, amid much that was grotesque and incongruous, a work of delicate [139] touch and thrilling and entrancing sound. ”

“ Beyond the hedges the lawn stretched out again, broken by flowerbeds and statues, and fringed by masses of foliage and lofty limes. A sound of falling water was heard on all sides; and, by mysterious contrivance of concealed mechanism, flute and harp music sounded from the depths of the bosky groves.
Mark knew little of what was going on. He occupied himself mostly with his young pupils; but the conversation he had had with the Princess Isoline had troubled his mind, and a sense of perplexity and of approaching evil weighed upon his spirits and affected his health. ”

“ Each man should carve out his life, as a whole, as though the lives of all were perfect, not as if it were a broken fragment of a fine statue; each should be a perfect Apollo of [152] the Belvedere Gardens, not a mere torso; not a strong arm only that can strike, not a finger only that can beckon—even though it be to God. Because all cannot enjoy them, does that make assorted colour, and sweet sound, and delicate pottery less perfect, less worthy to be sought? He should aim at the complete life—should love, and feel, and enjoy. ”

“ You attempted an impossible flight—a flight which human nature has no wings strong enough to achieve. As for me, this has been a terrible shock—more than I could have thought possible, I who fancied myself so secure and so serene. That such a terrible chance could happen shows how unstable are the most finished schemes of life. I fancied that my life was an art, and I dreamed that it might be perfected—as a religious art. ”

“ The Signorina is your work, and see, as is natural, how devoted she is to her maker."
"Every one thinks others happier than himself, Prince," said the old man, still gloomy. "As for the Signorina, she has much more made me than I her. I shall only injure and cripple her."
The girl looked at him with tears in her eyes.
"The Maestro is not well," she said to the Prince; "he will be more cheerful to-morrow. Success frightens him. It is often more terrible than failure." ”

“ He could understand nothing of the dialogue, but the gestures, the laughter, the wild singing, were shocking to him. When the Signorina appeared, the strange intensity of her colour, the brilliancy of her eyes, and what seemed to him the freedom of her gestures and the boldness of her bewitching glances, far from delighting, as they seemed to do all the others, made him ready to weep with shame and grief. [62] He sank back in his seat to avoid the notice of the Prince, who, indeed, was too much absorbed in the music and the acting to remember him. ”

“ The beauty of the music only added to his despair; had it been less lovely, had the acting not forced now and then a glance of admiring wonder or struck a note of high-toned touching pathos even, it would not all have seemed so much the work of evil. When the comedy was over he crept silently away to his room; and in the excitement of congratulation and praise, as actors and audience mingled together, and the Signorina was receiving the commendations of the Prince, he was not missed. ”

“ He gave his pupils a short lesson, but their thoughts were so much occupied by the expectation of the coming festivity that he soon released them and wandered out into the gardens alone. The performance of the play had been fixed for noon.
The day was bright and serene. The gardens were brilliant with colour and sweet with the perfume of flowers and herbs. Strains of mysterious harmony from secret music startled the wanderer along the paths.
Mark strayed listlessly through the more distant groves. He was distressed and dissatisfied with himself. ”

“ It is always so! The children of the world act always better than the children of light!"
In her self-abasement and despair the Princess did not remember Mark's words, that the greatest trial of his faith had been the Prince: a tolerance which is kindly and even appreciative, and yet, as with a clearness of a farther insight stands indifferently aside, must always be the great trial of simple faith. ”

“ Every day I learn more what love is; I feel every hour more able to love—I love you more and more for teaching me the art of love." [144]
"Ah, mia cara," said the Maestro, "that was not difficult! You were born with that gift. But it is strange to me, I confess it, how pathetically you sing. It is not in the music—at any rate, not in my music. It is beyond my art and even strange to it, but it touches even me."
And the old man shrugged his shoulders with an odd gesture, in which something like self-contempt struggled with an unaccustomed emotion. ”

“ Then I think that somewhere there must be a higher art that surpasses the realism of life—a divine art which is not life but fashions life.
"When I look at you, little one," Carricchio went on, "I feel almost as I do when the violins break in upon the jar and fret of the wittiest dialogue. Jest and [56] lively fancy—these are the sweets of life, no doubt—and humorous thought and speech and gesture—but they are not this divine art, they are not rest. They shrivel and wither the brain. The whole being is parched, the heart is dry in this sultry, piercing light. ”

“ Is it so?"
"Wherever the Serene Highness is," replied Karl graciously, "I am content and happy. I was happy in Rome, in Joyeuse, at Wertheim; but I confess that I like Wien. There is colour here, and quaintness, and esprit."
Karl had picked up many art terms with the rest of the princely household.
"Ah! Wertheim!" said the Prince, rather sadly as it seemed. "I like Wertheim, ah! so much—for a day or two. [157] One is so great a man there. I know every one, and every one knows me. I feel almost like a beneficent Providence, and as though I had discovered the perfection of art in life. ”

“ Passion, ennobled by art, lost its fatal, repellent aspect, and became perfect as an artistic whole. Here the poison worked readily in the Prince's mind. To sacrifice the least portion of this art-life to any narrow illiterate scruples was to sin [192] against its perfection, without which the whole structure were worthless. Better, far better, throw the entire scheme to the winds. Imperfect art is worse than none at all. He had already forgotten, if he had ever listened to it, Carricchio's warning against unreal and loveless art. ”

“ They were standing apart in one of the windows towards the end of the long room, and the noise of the looms made a continuous murmur that prevented their voices being heard by the others who were near.
The Princess looked at Mark for some moments without reply.
"I must speak the truth always," she said at last, "but more than ever to such as thou art. I am not happy." [73]
The boy looked at her as though his heart would break.
"Not happy," he said in a low voice, "and you so good."
"The good are not happy," said the Princess, "and the happy are not good." ”

“ But it palls, Karl; in a day or two it palls! The wants and sufferings of the poor are so much alike; they want variety, they are so deficient in shade, they are such poor art!" and the Prince sighed wearily.
"That is natural for the Serene Highness," said Karl, with a sympathising pity which was amusing; "that is natural to the Serene Highness, who does not see below the surface, and to whom all speak with bated breath. There is plenty of light and shade in the lives of the poor, if you go deep enough." ”

“ Why is religion to interfere always with art? Why is sacrifice always to be preached to us? Life is not sacrifice: it is a morbid, monkish idea. Life is success, fruition, enjoyment. Life is an art—religion also should be an art."
"Where there is love," said Carricchio, "there must be sacrifice, and no life is perfect without love. There are only two things capable of sacrifice—nature and love. When art is saturated with nature and elevated by love, it becomes a religion, but religion never becomes an art ”

“ The deepest sorrow warbled to exquisite airs; passion, despairing and bewildered, flinging itself as an evil thing across the devious paths of Romance, yet never for a second forgetful of the nicest harmony or capable of a jarring note. This ideal musical world—bizarre and [191] rococo as, in some respects, it was—seemed to the Prince in some sort an allegory, or even parody, on the art-life he had set himself to create or to perfect. ”

“ Vienna was emphatically the city of heraldry, and a tendency towards Oriental taste in noble and burgher produced a fantastic architecture of gables and minarets, breaking the massive lines of fortress-like mediæval palace and hôtel. Here and there a carriage was standing in the quiet street, and servants in gaudy liveries stood in the sunshine about the steps and gates.
The next morning the Prince was seated at his toilette, in the hands of his dresser, who was frizzling and powdering his hair. ”

“ There's old Carricchio—that's not his name, you know, but he is called so because of his part—that is the best of them, they are always the same—off the stage or on it—always [31] laughing, always joking, always kicking up their heels. You will see the faces—such delicious grimaces, old Carricchio will make at you when he asks you for the salt. But don't be frightened, I'll take care of you. They are all in love with me, but I like you already better than all of them. You shall come on yourself sometime, just as you are; you will make a delightful part."
Mark stared at her with amazement. ”

“ Yet they cannot be right—Isoline and the people with her—who talk of nothing but sacrifice and self-denial, and denounce everything by which life is not only made endurable, but by which, indeed, it is actually maintained in being. What would life be if every one were as they? 'Ah!' she says, 'there is little chance of that! So few think of aught save self! So few deny themselves for the sake of others, you need not grudge us few our self-chosen path.' That is where they make the fatal mistake. ”

“ It is difficult to realise the effect which sarcasm and irony have upon such natures as his. They look upon life with such a single eye. It is so beautiful and solemn to them. Truth is so true; they are so much in earnest that they cannot understand the complex feeling that finds relief in sarcasm and allegory, that tolerates the frivolous and the vain, as an ironic reading of the lesson of life.
The actors were particularly kind to him, though their grotesque attempts to amuse him mostly added to his misery. ”

“ I am your friend; we are all your friends. The Maestro even will come back to you. He is cross and angry. When he finds how lost he is without you and your lovely voice, he will come back to you; you and he will carry all before you again."
"Speak to him, Highness!" cried the girl passionately. "You are kind and [210] good to all—kinder than any one to me. Speak to him! do not let him go without me! He cannot live without his music, and no one surely can know his music so well as I, whom he has taught!" ”

“ The Maestro means that life is imperfect, struggling, a failure, ugly most often; art is perfect, complete, beautiful, and full of force and power. But I tell [54] him that some failure is better than success; sometimes ugliness is a finer thing than beauty; and that the best art is that which only reproduces life. If life were fashioned after the most perfect art you would never be able to cry, nor to make me cry, as you do over your beautiful tales."
Mark tried to understand this, but failed, and was therefore silent. ”

“ There was a slight pause, then the Maestro, who seemed to be in great spirits, went on: [134]
"I always thought the Prince a poor creature, now I am sure of it. He is neither one thing nor the other. He will never be an artist, in the true sense."
"He is very sorry for that poor child," said Carricchio.
"Sorry!" exclaimed the Maestro. "Sorry! I tell you when the canary died I was delighted, but I am still more delighted now. I predict to you a great future for the Signorina. ”