The Pictures; The Betrothing: Novels

by Ludwig Tieck

"See there," said Eulenböck, laughing, "hast thou too a destiny? That is more than I ever knew, youngster: to me thy nature seemed at the utmost prone to a sort of suspense. But the other is undoubtedly the choicer word, and perhaps it may improve into dexterity, when thou art grown a little wiser. Ay, ay, my friend, dexterity, that is what most men want, intelligence to take advantage of circumstances or to produce them, and thereupon they fall into destiny, or even into that still more fatal suspense, when a Christian hand is not always to be found to cut them down."

"Thou art impudent," exclaimed Edward, "and thinkest thyself witty; or else thou art already fuddled."

"May be, child," said the other with a grin, "and we will soon take measures for sobering me again. Our good prince has placed me in a sort of affluence, which, if I have discretion, may be lasting; for he protects me admirably, means to buy still more of me, and even orders things from my own pencil. He thinks that in this town I am not in my place, that my merits are not sufficiently recognized, and that I lack encouragement. Perhaps he may take me with him, and improve me still into a genuine artist, for he has the best of inclinations for it, and I precisely taste and talent enough to understand him, and let myself be advised by him."

"Rogue that thou art!" said his young friend, "I could not help laughing at thy having disposed so advantageously of thy Julio Romano; but still I should not like to be in thy place."

The old man went up to him, stared at him, and said, "And why not, chuck, if thou hadst but the gift required for it? Every man paints and tricks himself out, to put himself off for better than he really is, and to pass for a wonderfully precious original, when most of them are but daubed copies of copies. Hadst thou but heard my patron analyse the picture, then mightest thou have learnt something! Now I begin to understand all the technical designs of Julio Romano; thou wilt not believe how many excellences I had overlooked in the picture, how many passages of his racy pencil. Ay, it is delightful to penetrate so thoroughly into such an artist; and when one comprehends him entirely, and in all his parts alike, there creeps over us in the full sense of his high merit a feeling of self-complacency, as though we ourselves had some share in the display of his genius; for fully to understand a work of art, they say, is in some measure to produce it. What deep gratitude I owe to my serene patron and critic, for having, beside the money, poured into me such a flood of inspiration!"

"If I had not seen the man at the canvas painting," exclaimed Edward smiling, "he might make me believe the picture was genuine."

"What hast thou seen?" answered the old man warmly: "what dost thou understand of the magic of art, and of those invisible spirits which are attracted and embodied by means of colour and design? These are very mysteries for the profane. Dost believe then that a man only paints to make a picture, and that the pallet, the pencil and the good purpose are sufficient? O my dear simpleton, there must concur besides strange conjunctures, astral influxes, and the favour of a variety of spirits, in order to bring about a work as it should be! Did it never fall within thy experience, that an artist of fine perceptions and great depth of thought has spread his canvas, and dipped his pencil into the best colours, to lure and entice the most lovely ideal into his net? He has proposed to himself in the simplicity of his heart to paint an Apollo, he draws and touches, and rubs and brushes, and smiles enamoured and with the sweetest complacency at the creature which is to issue from the void and mist; and now when it is finished, behold all his skilfully-laid nets have caught a mere 'lob of spirits,' that grins and mows at us out of the Arcadian landscape! Now come the ignoramuses, and bawl and rave: 'The painter fellow has no talent, he has not properly understood the antique, he has produced a daub instead of an ideal,' and more such crude judgments. So is justice refused to the susceptible heart of the artist, because an absolute devil, an imp of darkness has fallen into the snare of his art, instead of an angel of light. For these spirits also range about, and only watch for an opportunity to embody themselves. Works of former painters, which have somehow been lost, often wander about a long while distressed in empty space, till a kind and able man again affords them an opportunity of descending in a visible shape. It has cost me labour enough to recover that composition of the excellent Roman artist; it requires more study than thou didst spend in thy boyhood to kidnap thy neighbour's pigeons. If thou art of opinion that, to paint a sacred history, a man is not obliged to bring all his devotion to bear upon the subject, thou art under a great error, from which our talented young friend Dietrich would be best able to relieve thee."

Dietrich, who had just entered, and heard only the last sentiment, took occasion directly to enlarge on this theme. In the meanwhile, Eulenböck had the cloth laid, and arranged the wines in the order according to which they were to be tasted; after this he addressed himself to Edward with the question: "And what dost thou think of setting about now for the future?"

"In the first instance not much," answered he: "in the meanwhile I mean to resume and carry on my neglected studies, and in particular to apply myself to history and the modern languages. I shall retrench, let the other parts of my house, which now stand empty without being of use to me, and retain only this little saloon and the adjoining rooms. In this way I hope, with a prudent style of living, to make shift easily for the first years, and in the meanwhile to render myself fit for some place or other."

"Here then will be thy study?" said Eulenböck, shaking his head. "This place does not at all please me, for I do not think these walls are adapted to lucubration; they have not the proper repercussion; the room itself has not the right quadrature; the thoughts rebound too violently and make a clatter; and if ever you want to continue them in a fugue, they will be sure all to clash in a hubbub together. It was another whim of your poor papa to spoil as he did this fine saloon in his latter years by his caprice. Formerly one looked upon the street on the one side, and here, on the other, over the garden and the park, away to the hills and distant mountains. He not only blocked up this fine view, but even covered the window niches to a great depth with boards and wainscotting, and so destroyed the symmetry of the room. If I were in thy place, I would tear all that stuff, tapestry, and wainscotting open again, and if any of the windows are to be lost, block up those which look on the street."