ART AND THE INFINITE. 283 



struggling, starting up, and wildly battling. He is subject to ner- 

 vous attacks and epilepsy. 



He is kindly — he is ferocious. Let me explain myself. His 

 heart is full of tenderness for the weak and little. Give him orphans 

 to watch over, he will take charge of them, and clasp them to his 

 heart ; a male, and aged, he nourishes and tends them as carefully as 

 any mother-bird. On the other hand, he is exceedingly cruel towards 

 his prey, is greedy and voracious ; the flame which burns inly, and 

 keeps him almost always thm, makes him constantly feel the need of 

 recruitment, and it is also one of the reasons that he is so easily 

 ensnared. It is enough to set your bait in* the morning; especially 

 in April and May, when he exhausts himself by singing throughout 

 the night. In the morning, weakened, frail, avid, he pounces blindly 

 on the snare. Moreover, he is very curious, and, in order to examine 

 a novel object, will expose himself to be. caught. 



Once captured, if you do not take the precaution to tie his wings, 

 or rather to cover the interior and pad the upper part of the cage, he 

 will kill himself by the frantic fury of his movements. 



This violence is on the surface. At bottom, he is gentle and 

 docile : it is these qualities which raise him so high, and make him 

 in truth an artist. He is not only the most inspired, but the most 

 tractable, the most "civilizable," the most laborious of birds. 



It is a charming sight to see the fledglings gathered round their 

 father, listening to him attentively, and profiting by his lessons to 

 form the voice, to correct their faults, to soften their novice-like 

 roughness, 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 springs 

 from his reverence for his art and from a kind of inward religion, is 

 the morality of the artist, his divine consecration, which seals him as 

 one apart — distinguishes him from the vain improvisatore, whose 

 unconscientious babble is a simple echo of nature. 



Thus love and light are undoubtedly his point of departure ; but 



