. The bird . arming sight to see the fledglings gathered round theirfather, listening to him attentively, and profiting by his lessons toform the voice, to correct their faults, to soften their novice-likeroughness, to render their young organs supple. But how much more curious it is to see him training himself,judging, perfecting himself, paying especial attention when he ven-tures on new themes ! This steadfast perseverance, which springsfrom his reverence for his art and from a kind of inward religion, isthe morality of the artist, his divine consecration, which seals him asone apart—distin
. The bird . arming sight to see the fledglings gathered round theirfather, listening to him attentively, and profiting by his lessons toform the voice, to correct their faults, to soften their novice-likeroughness, to render their young organs supple. But how much more curious it is to see him training himself,judging, perfecting himself, paying especial attention when he ven-tures on new themes ! This steadfast perseverance, which springsfrom his reverence for his art and from a kind of inward religion, isthe morality of the artist, his divine consecration, which seals him asone apart—distinguishes him from the vain improvisatore, whoseunconscientious babble is a simple echo of nature. Thus love and light are undoubtedly his point of departure ; but 284 THE NIGHTINGALE. art itself, the love of the beautiful, confusedly seen in glimpses, andvery keenly felt, are a second aliment, which sustains his soul, andsupplies it with a new inspiration. And this is boundless—a dayopened on the The true gi-eatness of the artist consists in overshooting his mark,in doing more than he willed ; and, moreover, in passing far beyondthe goal, in crossing the limits of the possible, and looking beyond —beyond. Hence arise great sorrows, an inexhaustible source of melancholy ;hence the sublime folly of weeping over misfortunes which he hasnever experienced. Other birds are astonished, and occasionallyinquire of him what is the cause of his grief, what does he free and joyous in his forest-home, he does not the less vouch-safe for his reply the strain which my captive chanted in hissilence : ■ Lascia che io pianga !Suffer me, suffer me to weep ! h ^A
Size: 2252px × 1109px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookidbird00mi, booksubjectbirds