hundredfold; and in all artistic work we commune not with blind,
irrational nature, but with the unseen spirit which is in nature,
inspiring our hearts, returning love for love, and rewarding our labor
with enduring bliss. Therefore it is your misfortune, not your fault,
that you are deprived of this supreme solace and happiness."

To this speech, which had a depressing effect on me, I answered sadly:
"Every day I feel my deficiencies more keenly, and wish more ardently to
lessen the great distance between us; but now--sweet mother, forgive me
for saying it!--your words almost make me despond."

"And yet, my son, I have spoken only to encourage you. I know your
limitations, and expect nothing beyond your powers; nor do your errors
greatly trouble me, believing as I do that in time you will be able to
dismiss them from your mind. But the temper of your mind must be changed
to be worthy of the happiness I have designed for you. Patience must
chasten that reckless spirit in you; for feverish diligence, alternating
with indifference or despondence, there must be unremitting effort; and
for that unsteady flame of hope, which burns so brightly in the morning
and in the evening sings so low, there must be a bright, unwavering, and
rational hope. It would be strange indeed if after this you were cast
down; and, lest you forget anything, I will say again that only by
giving you enduring happiness and the desire of your heart can my one
hope be fulfilled. Consider how much I say to you in these words; it
saddens me to think that so much was necessary. And do not think hardly
of me, my son, for wishing to keep you a little longer in this prison
with me: for in a little while your weakness will pass away like a
morning cloud. But for me there shall come no change, since I must
remain day and night here with the shadow of death; and when I am taken
forth, and the sunshine falls once more on my face, I shall not feel it,