“I doubt it, sire, my memory is very treacherous.”
“Well, try and think of one. In the mean while I will walk backward and forward a little. Well, have you thought of one?”
“Yes, your majesty,” said Gellert, after a brief silence, “I believe I remember one.”
“Let us hear it,” said the king; and, seating himself upon the fauteuil, he gazed fixedly at Gellert, who, standing in the middle of the room, his clear glance turned toward the king, now began his recitation.
“THE PAINTER.”
“A painter, Athens his abode,
Who painted less for love of gain
Than crowns of laurel to obtain,
Mars’ portrait to a connoisseur once showed,
And his opinion of it sought.
The judge spoke freely what he thought,
Twas wholly not unto his taste, he said,
And that, to please a practised eye,
Far less of art should be displayed.
The painter failed not to reply,
And though the critic blamed with skill,
Was of the same opinion still.”
“Then in the room a coxcomb came,
To scan the work with praise or blame.
He with a glance its worth descried;
‘Ye gods! A masterpiece’ he cried.
‘Ah, what a foot! what skilled details,
E’en to the painting of the nails!
A living Mars is here revealed,
What skill—what art in light and shade—
Both in the helmet and the shield,
And in the armor are displayed!’”
“The painter blushed with humbled pride,
Looked at the judge with woful mien,
‘Too well am I convinced’ he cried,
‘Unjust to me thou hast not been.’
The coxcomb scarce had disappeared,
when he his god of battle smeared.”
“And the moral,” cried the king, with vivacity, as Gellert ceased
for a moment.
“Here is the moral, sire:”
“If what you write offends the critic’s rules,
It is an evil sign, no doubt;
But when ‘tis lauded to the skies by fools,
‘Tis time, indeed, to blot it out.”
“That is beautiful—very beautiful; you have something gallant in your person. I understand every thing you say. I received a translation of ‘Iphigenia’ by Gottsched, and Quintus read it to me. I had the French with me, and I did not understand a word. He also brought me a poem by Pietsh, but I threw it aside.”
“I threw it aside, also,” said Gellert, smiling.
The king smiled pleasantly. “Should I remain here, you must come often and bring your fables to read to me.”