"'"There is, about the imperceptible commencement, the swelling and the gradual dying of those nature-tones a something which has a most powerful and indescribable effect upon us; and any instrument which should be capable of producing this would, no doubt, affect us in a similar way. So that I think the harmonica comes the nearest, as regards its tone, to that perfection, which is to be measured by its influence on our minds. And it is fortunate that this instrument (which chances to be the very one which imitates those nature-tones with such exact.i.tude) happens to be just the very one which is incapable of lending itself to frivolity or ostentation, but exhibits its characteristic qualities in the purest of simplicity. The recently invented 'harmonichord' will doubtless accomplish much in this direction. This instrument, as you no doubt know, sets strings a-vibrating and a-toning (not bells, as in the harmonica) by means of mechanism, which is set in motion by the pressing down of keys, and the rotation of a cylinder. The performer has, under his control, the commencement, the swelling out, and the diminishing, of the tones much more than is the case with the harmonica, though as yet the harmonichord has not the tone of the harmonica, which sounds as if it came straight from another world."

"'"I have heard that instrument," said Ferdinand, "and certainly the tone of it went to the very depths of my being, although I thought the performer was doing it scant justice. As regards the rest, I think I quite understand you, although I do not, as yet, quite see into the closeness of the connection between those 'nature-tones' and music."

"'Lewis answered--"Can the music which dwells within us be any other than that which lies buried in nature as a profound mystery, comprehensible only by the inner, higher sense, uttered by instruments, as the organs of it, merely in obedience to a mighty spell, of which we are the masters? But, in the purely psychical action and operation of the spirit--that is to say, in dreams--this spell is broken; and then, in the tones of familiar instruments, we are enabled to recognise those nature-tones as wondrously engendered in the air, they come floating down to us, and swell and die away."

"'"I think of the aeolian harp," said Ferdinand. "What is your opinion about that ingenious invention?"

"'"Every attempt," said Lewis, "to tempt Nature to give forth her tones is glorious, and highly worthy of attention. Only, it seems to me that, as yet, we have only offered her trifling toys, which she has often shattered to pieces in her indignation. Much grander idea than all those playthings (like aeolian harps) was the 'storm harp' which I have read of. It was made of thick chords of wire, which were stretched out at considerable distances apart, in the open country, and gave forth great, powerful chords when the wind smote upon them.

"'"Altogether, there is still a wide field open to thoughtful inventors in this direction, and I quite believe that the impulse recently given to natural science in general will be perceptible in this branch of it, and bring into practical existence much which is, as yet, nothing but speculation."

"Just at this moment there came suddenly floating through the air an extraordinary sound, which, as it swelled and became more distinguishable, seemed to resemble the tone of a harmonica. Lewis and Ferdinand stood rooted to the spot in amazement, not unmixed with awe; the tones took the form of a profoundly sorrowful melody sung by a female voice. Ferdinand grasped Lewis by the hand, whilst the latter whisperingly repeated the words,

"'"Mio ben, ricordati, s' avvien ch' io mora."

"'At the time when this occurred they were outside of the town, and before the entrance to a garden which was surrounded by lofty trees and tall hedges. There was a pretty little girl--whom they had not observed before--sitting playing in the gra.s.s near them, and she sprang up crying, "Oh, how beautifully my sister is singing again! I must take her some flowers, for she always sings sweeter and longer when she sees a beautiful carnation." And with that she gathered a bunch of flowers, and went skipping into the garden with it, leaving the gate ajar, so that our friends could see through it. What was their astonishment to see Professor X---- standing in the middle of the garden, beneath a lofty ash-tree! Instead of the repellant grin of irony with which he had received them at his house, his face wore an expression of deep melancholy earnestness, and his gaze was fixed upon the heavens, as if he were contemplating that world beyond the skies, whereof those marvellous tones, floating in the air like the breath of a zephyr, were telling. He walked up and down the central alley, with slow and measured steps; and, as he pa.s.sed along, everything around him seemed to waken into life and movement. In every direction crystal tones came scintillating out of the dark bushes and trees, and, streaming through the air like flame, united in a wondrous concert, penetrating the inmost heart, and waking in the soul the most rapturous emotions of a higher world. Twilight was falling fast; the Professor disappeared among the hedges, and the tones died away in _pianissimo_. At length our friends went back to the town in profound silence; but, as Lewis was about to quit Ferdinand, the latter clasped him firmly, saying--

"'"Be true to me! Do not abandon me! I feel, too clearly, some hostile foreign influence at work upon my whole existence, smiting upon all its hidden strings, and making them resound at its pleasure. I am helpless to resist it, though it should drive me to my destruction! Can that diabolical, sneering irony, with which the Professor received us at his house, have been anything other than the expression of this hostile principle? Was it with any other intention than that of getting his hands washed of me for ever, that he fobbed us off with those automatons of his?"

"'"You are very probably right," said Lewis; "for I have a strong suspicion myself that, in some manner which is as yet an utter riddle to me, the Professor does exercise some sort of power or influence over your fate, or, I should rather say, over that mysterious psychical relationship, or affinity, which exists between you and this lady. It may be that, being mixed up in some way with this affinity, in his character of an element hostile to it, he strengthens it by the very fact that he opposes it: and it may also be that that which renders you so extremely unacceptable to him is the circ.u.mstance that your presence awakens, and sets into lively movement all the strings and chords of this mutually sympathetic condition, and this contrary to his desire, and, very probably, in opposition to some conventional family arrangement."

"'Our friends determined to leave no stone unturned in their efforts to make a closer approach to the Professor, with the hope that they might succeed, sooner or later, in clearing up this mystery which so affected Ferdinand's destiny and fate, and they were to have paid him a visit on the following morning as a preliminary step. However, a letter, which Ferdinand unexpectedly received from his father, summoned him to B----; it was impossible for him to permit himself the smallest delay, and in a few hours he was off, as fast as post-horses could convey him, a.s.suring Lewis, as he started, that nothing should prevent his return in a fortnight, at the very furthest.

"'It struck Lewis as a singular circ.u.mstance that, soon after Ferdinand's departure, the same old gentleman who had at first spoken of the Professor's connection with "the Talking Turk," took an opportunity of enlarging to him on the fact that X----'s mechanical inventions were simply the result of an extreme enthusiasm for mechanical pursuits, and of deep and searching investigations in natural science; he also more particularly lauded the Professor's wonderful discoveries in music, which, he said, he had not as yet communicated to any one, adding that his mysterious laboratory was a pretty garden outside the town, and that pa.s.sers by had often heard wondrous tones and melodies there, just as if the whole place were peopled by fays and spirits.

"'The fortnight elapsed, but Ferdinand did not come back. At length, when two months had gone by, a letter came from him to the following effect--

"'"Read and marvel; though you will learn only that which, perhaps, you strongly suspected would be the case, when you got to know more of the Professor--as I hope you did. As the horses were being changed in the village of P----, I was standing, gazing into the distance, not thinking specially of anything in particular. A carriage drove by, and stopped at the church, which was open. A young lady, simply dressed, stepped out of the carriage, followed by a young gentleman in a Russian Jaeger uniform, wearing several decorations; two gentlemen got down from a second carriage. The innkeeper said, 'Oh, this is the stranger couple our clergyman is marrying to-day.' Mechanically I went into the church, just as the clergyman was concluding the service with the blessing. I looked at the couple--the bride was my sweet singer. She looked at me, turned pale, and fainted. The gentleman who was behind her caught her in his arms. It was Professor X----. What happened further I do not know, nor have I any recollection as to how I got here; probably Professor X---- can tell you all about it. But a peace and a happiness, such as I have never known before, have now taken possession of my soul. The mysterious prophecy of the Turk was a cursed falsehood, a mere result of blind groping with unskilful antennae. Have I lost her? Is she not mine for ever in the glowing inner life?

"'"It will be long ere you hear of me, for I am going on to K----, and perhaps to the extreme north, as far as P----."

"'Lewis gathered the distracted condition of his friend's mind, only too plainly, from his language, and the whole affair became the greater a riddle to him when he ascertained that it was matter of certainty that Professor X---- had not quitted the town.

"'"How," thought he, "if all this be but a result of the conflict of mysterious psychical relations (existing, perhaps, between several people) making their way out into everyday life, and involving in their circle even outward events, independent of them, so that the deluded inner sense looks upon them as phenomena proceeding unconditionally from itself, and believes in them accordingly? It may be that the hopeful antic.i.p.ation which I feel within me will be realised--for my friend's consolation. For the Turk's mysterious prophecy is fulfilled, and perhaps, through that very fulfilment, the mortal blow which menaced my friend is averted."'"

"Well," said Ottmar, as Theodore came to a sudden stop, "is that all?

Where is the explanation? What became of Ferdinand, the beautiful singer, Professor X----, and the Russian officer?"

"You know," said Theodore, "that I told you at the beginning that I was only going to read you a fragment, and I consider that the story of the Talking Turk _is_ only of a fragmentary character, essentially. I mean, that the imagination of the reader, or listener, should merely receive one or two more or less powerful impulses, and then go on swinging, pendulum-like, of its own accord, as it chooses. But if you, Ottmar, are really anxious to have your mind set at rest over Ferdinand's future condition, remember the dialogue on opera which I read to you some time since. This is the same Ferdinand who appears therein, sound of mind and body; in the 'Talking Turk' he is at an earlier stage of his career. So that probably his somnambulistic love-affair ended satisfactorily enough."

"To which," said Ottmar, "has to be added that our Theodore used, at one time, to take a wonderful delight in exciting people's imaginations by means of the most extraordinary--nay, wild and insane--stories, and then suddenly break them off. Not only this, but everything he did, at that time, a.s.sumed a fragmentary form. He read second volumes only, not troubling himself about the firsts or thirds; saw only the second and third acts of plays; and so on."

"And," said Theodore, "that inclination I still have; to this hour nothing is so distasteful to me as when, in a story or a novel, the stage on which the imaginary world has been in action comes to be swept so clean by the historic besom that there is not the smallest grain or particle of dust left on it; when one goes home so completely sated and satisfied that one has not the faintest desire left to have another peep behind the curtain. On the other hand, many a fragment of a clever story sinks deep into my soul, and the continuance of the play of my imagination, as it goes along on its own swing, gives me an enduring pleasure. Who has not felt this over Goethe's 'Nut-brown Maid'! And, above all, his fragment of that most delightful tale of the little lady whom the traveller always carried about with him in a little box always exercises an indescribable charm upon me."

"Enough," interrupted Lothair. "We are not to hear any more about the Talking Turk, and the story was really all told, after all. So let Ottmar begin without more ado."

Ottmar took out his ma.n.u.script, and read:

"'THE DOGE AND THE DOGARESSA.

"'This was the t.i.tle given in the catalogue of the works exhibited at the Berlin Academy, in September, 1816, to a picture by that admirable painter C. Kolbe, which attracted every one with such an irresistible charm, that the s.p.a.ce before it was always crowded with admirers. A doge, in rich robes of state, with his dogaressa, equally richly attired, were represented pacing forward on a bal.u.s.traded balcony; he an old man with grey beard, strangely mingled traits in his brown-red face, indicative of strength, weakness, pride, and arrogance, as well as kindliness; she, a young creature, with longing sadness and dreamy desirings in her looks, and in the entire expression of her figure.

Behind them, an elderly lady, and a man holding a sunshade. Sidewards on the balcony, a young man blowing a sh.e.l.l-shaped horn; and in front of them, the sea with a richly ornamented gondola flying the Venetian ensign, with two gondoliers on board of it. In the background the ocean, alive with hundreds and hundreds of sails, and a view of the towers and palaces of gorgeous Venice rising above the waves; to the left San Marco distinguishable, and more to the right--towards the foreground--San Giorgio Maggiore. On the frame of the picture were the words:

"'"Ah' senza amare Andar sulla mare Col' sposo del mare Non puo consolare.

"'"To sail upon the sapphire sea With him, the consort of the ocean, Where love is not, and cannot be, Wakes in the heart no soft emotion."

"'There arose, one day, before this picture, a somewhat idle discussion as to whether, in painting it, the painter's intention had been merely to portray a momentary situation (adequately represented by the picture) of an old man, incapable, notwithstanding all his magnificence and splendour, of satisfying the longings of a young and loving heart, or to record an actual historical event. Weary of this discussion the members of the group dispersed, till at length only two staunch lovers of the n.o.ble painter's craft were left.

"'"I do not know," the one of them began, "why it is that people spoil all their own enjoyment by these perpetual childish explainings and explainings. Not only do I consider that I see perfectly well what the painter meant by his doge and dogaressa--the idea which he intended them to express--but I am struck, and impressed, in a quite unusual degree, by the shimmer of richness and power which is spread over the whole of this work. Look at that flag with the winged lion, how it seems to control the world as it flutters in the breeze. Oh! glorious Venice!"

"'And he began to repeat Truandot's riddle concerning the Lion of the Adriatic.

"'"Dimmi qual sei quella terribil fera," &c., &c.

"'Scarcely had he finished doing this, when a sonorous male voice broke in with Calaf's answer to the said riddle:

"'"Tu, quadrupede fera," &c.

"'Unnoticed by the friends, a man had taken up his position behind them; a man of very distinguished appearance, having a grey cloak cast, artist-like, over his shoulders, who was contemplating the picture with sparkling eyes. A conversation commenced between them, and the stranger said, in a tone which was almost solemn:

"'"It is a strange mystery that, often, a picture dawns in a painter's mind, of which the characters--previously mere irrecognizable, bodiless mist, driving about in the atmosphere--seem, for the first time, to a.s.sume form in his brain, and to find their home there, and, of a sudden, the picture binds itself up with the past, or perhaps with the future, and represents something which has happened, or is to happen hereafter. Kolbe may not be aware himself, as yet, that in that picture of his he has painted none other than the Doge Marino Falieri and his wife, Annunziata."

"'The stranger paused; but the two friends begged him to solve this riddle for them as he had done that of the Lion of the Adriatic."

"'So he said, "If you have the necessary patience, gentlemen, I will at once give you the solution of the riddle, in the shape of the story of Falieri. The question is, _have_ you the necessary patience? For I mean to be exceedingly circ.u.mstantial; because, were I not to be so, I should much prefer not to speak of these matters at all--though they are as vividly present to my eyes as if I had actually witnessed them.

There is nothing strange in this; for every historian (and _I_ am a historian) is a species of ghost, telling of things bygone."

"'The friends accompanied the stranger to a room at some little distance; where, without further prelude, he went on, as follows:--

"'"A long, long time ago--if I mistake not, it was in the month of August of the year 1354--the great Genoese General Paganino Doria had utterly routed the Venetians, and taken their town of Parenzo by storm.

In the gulf, close before Venice, his well-manned galleys were cruizing up and down, like hungry beasts of prey running backwards and forwards, watching how best to grasp their quarry. Deadly terror took possession of the Signoria and populace. Everybody who could carry arms took to their weapons or to their oars. They collected their forces and treasure at the harbour of San Nicolo. Ships and trees were sunk, and chains fastened together, to block the pa.s.sage against the enemy.

Whilst the weapons and the armour clanged and clattered, and the heavy ma.s.ses went thundering down into the sea, agents of the Signoria were to be seen on the Rialto wiping the perspiration from their pale foreheads, and offering, in hoa.r.s.e accents and with distracted faces, cent, per cent. for ready cash; for even of that the troubled republic was in urgent need. But it was decreed in the mysterious councils of Eternal Providence that just at this season of the extremest trouble and necessity the faithful shepherd of this distracted flock should be taken away from them. The Doge, Andrea Dandulo, whom his people styled 'The dear little Count' (_Il caro Contino_)--because he was always kind and good, and never crossed the square of San Marco without being prepared with money or good advice for all who needed either--died, worn out by fatigue and anxiety. And as those who are disheartened by misfortune feel doubly every blow, which at another time they would scarcely notice, the people were overwhelmed with sorrow when they heard the bells of San Marco announcing in hollow tones of sadness the death of their ruler. Their hope and stay was gone; they cried aloud that they would have to bow their necks to the yoke of Genoa; although, as concerned the warlike operations, the death of Dandulo did not seem such a great disaster. For the little Count liked to live in peace and comfort; he was fonder of watching the mysterious courses of the stars than of studying the enigmatic turnings and windings of statecraft; he knew better how to duly order an Easter procession than how to lead an army to battle. The desideratum now was the choice of a Doge who should possess both the generalship and the diplomatic skill necessary to rescue Venice from the clutches of her enemy, more daring every day and hour. The Senators met; but nothing was seen save troubled faces, eyes fixed on the ground, and heads leaned on the hand. Where should a man be found capable of grasping the helm with vigorous, strenuous hand, and steering the vessel of the State safe through the storm?

"'At length the oldest of the senators, Marino Bodoeri, began to speak.

"'"Here," he said, "around us or about us, he is not to be found. But turn your eyes to Avignon, to Marino Falieri, whom we sent to congratulate Pope Innocent on his election. He might be better employed now. If we make him Doge he will weather this storm. You will say he is well on to his eightieth year, with his hair and his beard turned to silver; that his vigorous aspect, his gleaming eyes, and the rosy tint of his nose and cheeks are due (as evil tongues choose to say) more to good Cyprus wine than to toughness of const.i.tution. What matter!

Remember the brilliant courage he displayed when he was Proveditor of the Black Sea Fleet. Think of the deserts which moved the procurators of San Marco to reward him with the rich Countship of Valdemarino."

"'Thus did Bodoeri paint Falieri's merits in the most brilliant colours, and refute, in advance, all objections to him, till every vote was at length given in his favour. It is true many had a good deal to say of his violent temper, his l.u.s.t for power, and his self-will. But on the other hand it was urged, "It is because all _that_ has, in his old age, pa.s.sed away from him that we choose the aged--not the youthful--Falieri." Hostile voices such us these fell silent as soon as the populace, on hearing of his election, broke forth into boundless rejoicing. In time of danger, disquiet, and anxiety, any decision, so long as it is a decision, is looked upon as a divine inspiration.

"'So the "dear little Count," with all his gentleness and kindliness, was clean forgotten, and everybody cried:

"'"By Saint Mark, this Marino ought to have been our Doge long ago; and then we should not have had this presumptuous Doria upon our shoulders." And maimed soldiers held up their arms, and cried: