And so it is with the workman of art. Art is long and life is short,
and success is very far off. And thus, doubtful of strength to travel
so far, we talk a little about the aim--the aim of art, which, like life
itself, is inspiring, difficult--obscured by mists--It is not in the
clear logic of a triumphant conclusion; it is not in the unveiling of one
of those heartless secrets which are called the Laws of Nature. It is
not less great, but only more difficult.

To arrest, for the space of a breath, the hands busy about the work of
the earth, and compel men entranced by the sight of distant goals to
glance for a moment at the surrounding vision of form and colour, of
sunshine and shadows; to make them pause for a look, for a sigh, for a
smile--such is the aim, difficult and evanescent, and reserved only
for a very few to achieve. But sometimes, by the deserving and
the fortunate, even that task is accomplished. And when it is
accomplished--behold!--all the truth of life is there: a moment of
vision, a sigh, a smile--and the return to an eternal rest.

1897. J. C.




THE NIGGER OF THE "NARCISSUS"




CHAPTER ONE