goodness, they should be called what they | it agreeable to him. Augusta will be here are, -Excellencies!" And she inclined her head gently towards the noble speaker. We will make a halt, gentle reader, for the carriages are rolling by, gentlemen and ladies are taking leave of each other; it is time that we too should separate. In the room where they were putting on their cloaks, I saw the Countess Natalia hasten to Angelica, extend her white hand from under her ermined cloak, and take hers. "We must meet again," said she; "come to me to-morrow." "I do not go out," said Angelica with some pride; "I have no time." The Countess led her a little aside, saying: "In two days I am going into the country, to his Excellency G's., our host of to-day. Shall I take you with me? He has splendid collections in the arts. Well! shall it be so ?" Angelica looked at the charming Countess coldly, and as if undecided. "My father," said she, hesitating, "my time "Aha! difficulties! So much the better! I love to struggle against difficulties. I will conquer them. Expect me to-morrow certainly." And she went away. The voice of Madame Palm was heard calling out, as she was getting into the carriage," Has Angelica got her alpus with her? Just think, if it should fall into the street! "Amen! Would it might be so," said Miss Margaret, pressing herself with a yawn into a corner of the carriage. My first question, when we reached home, was, who the dear Otto might be. "Otto!" cried Adelaide, "young Otto, my cousin and bridegroom!" Bridegroom?" I repeated in astonish ment. "Yes, in old times. We grew up together, and played, when children, at bride and bridegroom." "The play may become earnest," said the President significantly. Adelaide did not answer, but she bit her under-lip, which swelled thereupon like a ripe cherry, and looked as indignant as beautiful. Poor Edla came home as still and sullen as she had gone away. I had not seen, for the whole evening, a kind or cheerful expression in her face. The next day, after a three hours' initiation into the principles of education of the blessed wife of the President, which I listened to again with what edification I might, the President permitted me to cast a glance into the circumstances of the family. "We shall keep open house," said he, "for Count Alaric, and endeavour to make very often, and I wish to make an arrangement between her and the Count. It would be suitable in every point of view, and I think besides, that they are both well-disposed to it. His character is as distinguished as his name and rank, and his small property is no obstacle, for hers is very considerable. "Adelaide will soon be the Baroness G. Otto and she are suited to each other in every way. Adelaide requires a rich husband, for she is fond of splendor and gayety, in which she is justified by her beauty, and by her position in the world. Adelaide would be quite wretched in a narrow circle, and with small means. However, I shall not hurry the thing; such affairs arrange themselves best, when they are let alone.I am a friend of deliberate measures, Miss Ronnquist. With patience, and a little diplomatic address, one may be certain to guide people and things as one pleases. My brother-in-law and I are neighbours in the country; in summer we meet frequently, the young people gather flowers together, eat strawberries together, hear the nightingales together;-in the autumn, I think, we shall have the wedding. Meanwhile, I approve of Adelaide's accompanying my sister-in-law into the great world, when she desires her company." The President informed me also, that in two days the birth-day of the Baroness G. was to be celebrated. There was to be a fête at their country-seat, four miles from the town, and the President proposed to me to accompany his daughters thither, which I gladly consented to do. We went at the appointed day. Adelaide was so gay, so amiable, so affectionate to Edla, that she could not resist the influence of this young spring-sun. She was more cheerful and friendly, during the ride in the beautiful clear autumn weather, than I had seen her before. When we had reached the splendid cas tle of his Excellency G., we were received on the steps by his Excellency and Otto, who, out of himself with joy, fell on his knees before Adelaide. When we had arranged our toilette in the rooms prepared for us, we were led into the library by the Baroness, where the company had assembled at tea. There, surrounded by books, flowers, and pictures, the Countess Augusta and Alaric were walking to and fro in lively conversation. The President went immediately to pay his devoirs to his admired Countess M., who listened very languidly and carelessly to his fine things. Miss Margaret was sitting in a reclining posture in a corner of the sofa, and cast now and then an inquiring glance from her black eyes, on the different persons in the room. Silently, but with a smile on her | in her compositions, especially in the drawlips, and an inspired eye, Angelica was ing of the figures; but one would seek in flitting with the lightness of a sylph from vain, perhaps even in the works of the one work of art to another. greatest masters, for more expression, more life, in the countenances. And the birthday came, and with it a crowd of neighbours and congratulations, and verses, and dancing, and illuminations. But it does not please me now to speak of birthdays, of verses so flat, of visitors so wearisome, of amusements which tire, and of lamps which go out; it pleases me to plume my wing (of goose-feathers) to a higher flight, and to prattle a little about GENIUS. "That godlike gift, with its pure ear, when Heaven utters its wonders, with its free, melodious tongue, which, without effort, with natural ease, reveals them again to the world." From a letter of B. ADJOINING the library was a rotundo, where statues and busts of great geniuses and artists were placed. It was here, that Angelica passed all the time that she could rescue from the company. Count Alaric could not but acknowledge this, and, at Adelaide's entreaties, confess that he could see some traces of this lifegiving power even in the unfortunate "alpus," which he had at first condemned so unsparingly. Angelica was an entirely individual person. Silent, meditative, and reserved, her whole life seemed to be in her eye and ear. It cost her an effort to express herself in words; if a feeling or a thought took powerful possession of her, it seemed at times as if she was urged on by a spirit, whose power she could not withstand; but her whole being was shaken at such moments; she became pale, and every thing she said bore the impression of a deep excitement. After such periods, she not unfrequently burst into tears, and was disturbed and exhausted. Then she liked to have Adelaide with her, and, as she looked on her beauty, on the expression of kindness and joy in her youthful features, she was strengthened and tranquillized. One evening she was sitting in The Baroness, who would gladly have the rotundo, at the feet of Linnæus, and made use of Angelica's talent for the benefit reading with a fixed attention, which showof her guests, proposed to her to sketched that she was drawing life from the book. them successively, which, as she said, would A moth, diligently doing the same thing, give the young artist pleasure, and might sat with dusty wings on the margin of the be good practice for her. Angelica assent-page, and worked away on Plato's "Repubed coldly, drew, with incredible rapidity, a large number of beautiful portraits, but received with the most absolute indifference all the praises that were lavished upon her. This was not from unkindness, pride, or contempt; she was gentle and serene, but took no interest in what was passing, and, whenever she could, she stole away from those who surrounded her, and repaired to the rotundo. She passed whole hours in the contemplation of the marble statues, in which genius has immortalized genius. At times, she sat reading, surrounded by the glorious dead, who, although silent as the grave, spoke of life's deepest mysteries; she often employed herself in drawing from them, and, at those times, when she was sitting there with her pencil and sketchbook, the room might be filled with people, they might be talking all around her, she knew nothing about it. One thought, one image, which was continually repeated in Angelica's drawings, as well as in her larger paintings, was that of an angel; it seemed as if a supernatural beauty and sanctity hovered before her fancy, and as if she were seeking to express outwardly this internal image of her own. A constant effort to realize an ideal seemed to dwell within her. There were often considerable defects lic." Socrates looked down upon her from his pedestal, and Hebe smiled silently, but gayly at her side. A glowing sunset illuminated Angelica's countenance, and shone on the words in the book, upon which her eye rested brightly, and full of thought. Socrates was endeavouring to lead his scholars nearer to the contemplation of goodness, and Adeimantos said: "But you do not call it pleasure?" And Socrates answered: "Sin not, but observe this image still more closely.' Strange thoughts sprang up, meanwhile, in the soul of Angelica, aspirations which she knew not how to explain. She looked up to the marble sages; but now they seemed to her cold and speechless. The room appeared to her narrow and damp; she opened the doors, which led from the rotundo out upon the terrace, and looked at the sea of fire in the west, where the sun was just slowly sinking down, and let the cool evening breeze play upon her hair and cheeks. She did not observe that a part of the company had assembled in the rotundo; that they were gazing at her with surprise; that they looked at the book with still greater astonishment, which she had left open on the knees of the great natural philosopher. Some one said: "I cannot conceive, what she can do with such a book. Will it teach her to paint better?" "Indeed, I believe so," said Count Alaric, smiling. "I think I understand what you mean," said the Countess Natalia. "But is it not the fortunate privilege of genius, to know, without the necessity of learning; to bring forth the divine, without having inquired into its essence? The genial artist produces the beautiful, without understanding it." "But not without feeling it," answered Alaric, "feeling it in the depths of his soul. The artist does not work like the bee; he knows what he does; his power is not that of instinct, but of the awakened, conscious spirit. He is not blind, he is clairvoyant." "But this genius itself is, however, an immediate gift of Heaven. This divine flame is born in the artist's soul, and has taken nothing from the earth. The spirit is baptized with fire, baptized to a self-sufficing power, ever creating from its inward riches, ever producing like God. He possesses life in himself, and is independent of all else." "Not independent of all," answered Alaric. "The heavenly flame itself would be extinguished, if knowledge and love did not feed it. What is it which the artist seeks to represent, when he understands his vocation, and strives after the highest? Is it not the fullness of life, which is in the soul and in nature? But in order wholly to comprehend it, in order to be wholly possessed by it, he must lose himself in it, and take it to himself. Does not the seed of his inner world develope in growth and flower, exactly because it is sunk deeply in the elements? Happy for the young artist, who is initiated by philosophy into those mysteries, which he desires to reveal in powerful works; happy, if a noble love opens and warms his soul! His nation will then listen to his songs, or look upon his pictures, with joy and gratitude, and not, as now, complain justly, that the time brings forth only buds and no flowers, that so many beautiful flames are kindled only to go out again directly." Count Alaric went back, after these words, and sought Adelaide with his eyes, who was just leading in Angelica from the terrace. Talking, in a half whisper, of" ecstasies of a cold in her head, and pain in the chest," Miss Margaret again closed the doors. Angelica sat down, and resting her head on her hand, looked at the speakers. mar "If love helps one to paint and to poetize," said a gentleman in the company, riage, on the contrary, is a certain death to these talents. I assure you, that I made verses, when an unmarried man, equal to Franzen and Tegnér; but now, wife and children, and taking care of grounds, and raising stock, and God knows what, I assure you, all this dries up the richest vein." The Countess M. dryly remarked, that Franzen and Tegnér were married, and held important offices in the state. "As to philosophy and Platonic love," said Hugo L. with a glowing and unspiritual glance, "I shall take care how I burden and weigh down my fancy with these loads. A glowing, free, and unrestrained imagination is the true kingdom of the artist. With this, he will attain the only thing which is worth the trouble of striving for. He will gratify the senses, and the vanity of men, and earn much money!" "Money!" cried the Countess M. with surprise and contempt. "Means of enjoyment," said Hugo, smiling. "I think," said an elderly lady, with a gentle expression of face, "that God has given the fine arts to man to increase his enjoyment of life, and I see not why we should seek any higher use for them. If I see in my room pretty landscapes, agreeable domestic scenes, if I have around me the portraits of my children, or of persons whom I have loved and lost, I praise the artist and thank God, for the beautiful gift of art." "The plastic arts," said an old gentleman, with much emphasis, "are valuable to man only in the degree in which they reproduce his favorite objects. For you, Madanie, they are valuable, because they give you the portraits of your friends. I, myself, buy no pictures, unless they represent horses, and my brother Gustavus looks at no pictures, if they do not present to him bread, cheese, &c. Ha! ha! ha!" "Above all," said another, "it should be the highest aim of art, truly to reflect the scenes of real life; only thus can art be useful and profitable to man; for only thus has it truth for him, not confusing his fancy with images of angels or devils, which only serve to make him an enthusiast or a dreamer. Long live, therefore, the Flemish school!" "For my part," said the rich v. S., "I would not give two stivers for those who paint life or put it in verses. I know a little what a genius is; I had, unluckily, a piece of one for a son, who was just good for nothing at all." "Probably, just because he was a piece of one," said Miss Margaret, in a half whisper to the Countess M. "Indeed," said the latter, "if art is so small a thing, what then is genius?" "A splendid meteor!" said some one. "Why then does the earth worship it as a God? "Men love the brilliant, that which strikes their eyes. I believe it would be difficult to determine, in a deliberate discussion, whether genius is really of any use to the world. The industrious citizen, the quiet thinker, the good man, does more for the welfare of the state, than the most brilliant genius." "We will examine this more closely," said the Countess M.; "we will ask, What does genius give to the world and to mankind?" Saying this, she looked at Angelica, and all eyes were directed to the young girl, who seemed under the influence of some powerful emotion. She had risen, and went with a light step as far as to the circle of people who were standing around Thorwaldsen's Harp Player; which, placed on an altar of variegated marble, occupied the centre of the rotundo. Her cheeks became constantly paler and paler; her eyes flashed darkly; she trembled all over, and was obliged to lean against the altar. She stood there a moment, in silence, and it seemed as if she were listening to words which were audible to no one else. All observed her with admiration, except Miss Margaret, who turned away with an air of dissatisfaction, saying: "What is the use of this scene? Such things are intolerable to me, although otherwise the girl pleases me well enough;" and she went away. Alaric approached nearer to the young improvisatrice, repeating the question of the Countess Natalia; "Tell us, Angelica, what does genius give to the world?" Angelica looked at him. Her eye seemed larger than usual, her breast heaved; she looked around the circle, her eyes filling with tears. Her soul was overfull. When she spoke at last, her words did not flow forth tranquilly, but her thoughts seemed to come like lightning flashes, in interrupted and broken phrases. "It gives gladness, gladness, to the world, gladness to the soul of every man! Light to the past, power to the present, hope for coming days. Have you seen the graves and the ruins upon the earth? Have you seen nations and thrones vanish away? seen how those who have done works of love and heroic acts sank into the silent grave? how ashes cover the splendid temples, and how mist hangs over and obscures the sepulchres of heroes, and how every thing, every thing passes away from the actual world? "But who is the glorious One, who scatters the clouds with flaming glances, and causes the spirits of the departed to live again in glorified forms? the immortal bard, who preserves the memories of nations, their struggles, their victories, their wounds, the treasures which they have gained, and which one age inherits from another; who causes us to weep to-day at the sufferings, and to rejoice at the great actions which have passed away for thousands of years? Bright dawn of morning to the world sunk in darkness, Genius, it is thou! | | "When the spirit speaks, then is the heart of nations expanded; immortal words which lay there slumbering, awake again. Men look up, and perceive anew their nobler selves, they become better, more loving, and happier. "Dark clouds pass over the earth. There are autumn nights when all the stars of heaven are obscured, and the heart of man is sick of life, of all around him, of himself. No animating feeling dwells in his heart, no tear comes to his eye; wherever he looks it is night, and in the darkness are pale, frightful shadows, and the air which he breathes suffocates him.-Then!-what flashes out of the cloud, and makes the night clear, and permits us to see the beautiful spirits which were hidden behind the clouds, and which now smile down upon us? It is genius, it is the great artist! His lightning flash has touched the heart of the unhappy man, he has wept, his sufferings are alleviated; yet another beam of light, another glimpse of the divine countenance, and he looks up with hope and courage. "And when a nation bleeds, when a deep wound has been struck at its heart, and it seems as if its strength, its freedom, its noblest life, must pass away under the hand of the executioner; who is it who, even then, speaks of better days, who raises again the fallen eagle, and allows his eye again to look at the eternal Sun? Comforter of the castdown, Seer and Prophet of the mysteries of God, Genius, all hail! "Who makes nature more glorious? who understands her language, reads the silent hymn of the flowers, and comprehends the thoughts in the songs of the birds? Who listens to the spirits of the mountain and the river, and to the voice of God in the rolling thunder, in the rustling forest, and explains to man the words of God in nature? "Thou wonder-worker, thou life in life, thou mighty hand, thou who bindest together time and eternity, ever-renewing, everproducing power, thou who lookest on the path of the sun, and on the heart of man, thou who seekest out the essence of the Divinity, and the life of the little flower, we conceive thee not, but we know well whence thou art! "Man fell, and the spirit went astray in dark dreams; but the jubilee of a higher world reached him. O! then the scattered features united in a heavenly smile, the misty figures of his dream received life and color, and all his recollections stood up in bright light, — a beam of God's brightness, genius smiles upon the earth, and illuminates the dark reality." His A solemn looking man now stepped out from the circle which surrounded Angelica. face was youthful, but his features stern and pale. He said with a deep and solemn voice: 6 "The earth is the abode of sin, the earth is a valley of tears. Woe to the man of genius, who forgets his peculiar calling as the voice of God to a fallen world, if he neglect to represent to man his sins with traits of fire, and to summon him to repentance and reformation.. Woe to him, if, like the serpent in nature, he invites to joy, to deceitful pride, when he should call out, Humble yourselves and weep!' O! who are we, that God should deign to smile upon us? Sinners! sinners! Who can imagine to himself a holy heaven, without feeling in comparison the depth of his own fall? There is one subject on earth for art and genius, one only, which is suited to the condition of mankind upon the earth, the crucifixion of Christ." "O no, he has arisen!" cried Angelica, with an inspired smile. "Joy, joy to the earth for ever! It is not pain, it is not anguish, which makes free and reconciles; it is love, it is beauty. Represent heaven truly, and man will live for it. Present to the earth the image of a God, and man will love it, and come nearer to the Original." "It is pitiable, thoughtless presumption in fallen man," said the solemn speaker, "to think that he can comprehend the Image of the mysterious One.-This is tempting God." "But when he gives himself to man," answered Angelica, with enthusiasm. "God suffered on the cross for sinners; he will not refuse to reveal his glory to those who approach him in devout worship. Is not the vocation of Genius, as well as of Art, a mediatorial one? Phidias and Raphael, Milton and Tegnér, Handel and Mozart, have diminished the distance between heaven and earth. The calling of Genius is higher than ever before, in our time. Who has not heard how the vail of the temple was rent in twain at the hour of the great sacrifice? Now can the pious soul look into the Holy of holies, and it is the duty of the Artist to reveal God again and again to the world. Unweariedly may he strive for the highest; with love, with patience, with prayer, with | earthly and with heavenly power. O! grant me for the labor of a whole life, only a momentary glance of the Divine, and then but a few moments to utter it again to the world, - and I have lived long enough!" With increasing, but always more serene inspiration, Angelica went on: 66 Happy are those who are penetrated by God's brightness, happy those, who can give this flame again to the world and then die. "Who is the blessed, the great, the enviable on earth? Is it not he who gives to humanity in illuminated beauty that life which he draws from it; who, elevated by the genius of humanity, rises to heaven, and seizes its fire, to kindle with it the heart of nations? - a human "The life of a man, the short life of man, -a life of a few years, - and to live this for an immortal life, to breathe fire into the souls of millions of beings, life, so little, and yet so much! - how wonderful, how glorious! How beautiful the destiny to live for a world, and to die for the immortally beautiful on earth! O! that it might be mine!" And tears of earnest longing rolled down Angelica's glowing cheeks. "For the sake of the glory?" asked Alaric, with an inquiring look. "And would this glory make you any happier, Angelica?" asked the elderly lady, with the mild countenance; "will it procure you any more love from your friends? will you by these efforts for the million, make a single human being more truly happy? O! Angelica! is there then a nobler lot on earth, one more worthy of the desires of a woman's heart, than to make the whole happiness of another human being?" Angelica looked from one to the other of the speakers; a cloud came over her face, but soon passed away. She spoke to Count Alaric: "No, not for the glory. If I should be so blessed as to produce a masterpiece, and time, or the hand of an enemy should obliterate my name from the picture, I would not complain, if only the work of my hand and of my spirit might live for mankind." To the elderly lady she said with a subdued voice: "I know not whether I shall be happy, I know only this, that I must obey the voice which admonishes me to seek in art for the infinite. God must determine my fate as he will!" Alaric approached her. "And have you," he asked, "thought of all the obstacles in your way? Public opinion, poverty, your sex, which increases the difficulty of acquiring thorough knowledge, all will oppose your progress. Listen to wiser counsel, Angelica! Be guided by the taste and the circumstances of the time. Do not strive to attain the ideal; paint portraits, little scenes of every-day life,—and you will become rich, at ease, you will be loved and esteemed." "I may suffer hunger," said Angelica, looking at him steadily and serenely, "but I shall not listen to the reproaches of the world; they will be drowned by a louder voice in my own soul. I will live only to aspire to the highest." "And if you should fail in this? If you should have deceived yourself as to your powers?" "Then may God be merciful to me, and let me die!" "And why this ambition? Even a lower degree of perfection gives pleasure, and the good and beautiful live also in a lower sphere of life! there they are more attainable by man. |