Эрнст Гофман
Specimens of German Romance; Vol. II. Master Flea
"However great the distance that separated me from my colleague, yet I set off immediately, and hastened to him. He had in the meantime put off all operations, to allow me the pleasure of a sight first; and perhaps, too, from the fear of spoiling something if he acted entirely from himself. I soon convinced myself of the perfect correctness of my colleague's observations; and, like him, firmly believed that it was possible to snatch the princess from her sleep, and give her again her original form. The sublime spirit, dwelling within us, soon let us find the proper method; but as you, friend Pepusch, know very little,–in fact nothing at all,–of our art, it would be quite superfluous to describe to you the different operations which we went through to attain our object. It is sufficient if I tell you that by the dexterous use of various glasses–for the most part prepared by myself–we succeeded not only in drawing the princess uninjured from the flower, but in forwarding her growth, so that she soon attained her natural dimensions. Now, indeed, life was wanting; and this depended on the last and most difficult operations. We reflected her image by means of one of the best solar microscopes, and loosened it dexterously from the white wall, without the least injury. As soon as the shadow floated freely, it shot like lightning into the glass, which broke into a thousand shivers. The princess stood before us full of life and freshness. We shouted for joy; but so much the greater was our horror, on perceiving that the circulation of the blood stopped precisely there where the Leech-Prince had fastened himself. She was just on the point of swooning, when we perceived on the very spot behind the left ear a little black dot, that quickly appeared and as quickly disappeared. Immediately the stagnation of the blood ceased, the princess revived, and our work had succeeded.
"Each of us,–that is, I and my colleague,–knew full well how invaluable was the possession of the princess, and each struggled for it, imagining that he had more right to it than the other. My colleague affirmed that the tulip, in which he had found the princess, was his property; and that he had made the first discovery, which he had imparted to me; and that I could only be deemed an assistant, who had no right to demand, as a reward of his labour, the work itself at which he had assisted. I, on the other hand, brought forward my invention of the last and most difficult process, which had restored the princess to life, and in the execution of which my colleague had only helped; so that, if he had any claims of propriety upon the embryo in the flower-petal, yet the living person belonged to me. On this ground we quarrelled for many hours, till, having screamed ourselves hoarse, we at last came to a compromise. My colleague consigned the princess to me, in return for which I gave him an important glass, and this very glass is the cause of our present determined hostility. He affirms that I have treacherously purloined it–an impudent falsehood–and although I really know that the glass was lost in the transferring, yet I can declare, upon my honour and conscience, that I am not the cause of it, nor have I any idea how it could have happened. In fact, the glass is so small, that a grain of sand is about ten times larger. See, friend Pepusch; now I have told you all in confidence, and now you know that Dörtje Elverdink is no other than the revivified Princess Gamaheh, and must perceive that to such a high mysterious alliance a plain young man like you can have no–."
"Stop!" interrupted George Pepusch, with a smile that was something satanic:–"stop! one confidence is worth another, and, therefore, I, on my side, will confide to you that I knew all that you have been telling me much earlier and much better than you did. I cannot laugh enough at your bigotry and your foolish pretensions. Know,–what you might have known long ago if your knowledge had not been confined to glass-grinding,–that I myself am the thistle, Zeherit, who stood where the princess had laid her head, and of whom you have thought fit to be silent through your whole history."
"Pepusch!" cried the flea-tamer, "are you in your senses? The thistle, Zeherit, blooms in the distant Indies, in the beautiful valley, closed in by lofty rocks, where at times the wisest magi of the earth are wont to assemble: Lindhorst, the keeper of the records, can best inform you about it. And you, whom I have seen running about half starved with study and hunger, you pretend to be the thistle, Zeherit?"
"What a wise man you are, Leuwenhock!" said Pepusch, laughing: "Well, think of my person what you will, but do not be absurd enough to deny that, in the moment of the thistle Zeherit's feeling the sweet breath of Gamaheh, he bloomed in glowing love and passion; and that, when he touched the temples of the sleeping princess, she too dreamt sweetly of love. Too late the Thistle perceived the Leech-Prince, whom he else had killed with his thorns in a moment; but yet, with the help of the root, Mandragora, he would have succeeded in recalling the princess to life, if the stupid genius, Thetel, had not interfered with his awkward remedies. It is true that, in his passion, the genius put his hand into the saltbox, which he is used to carry at his girdle when he travels, like Pantagruel, and flung a good handful at the Leech-Prince; but it is quite false that he killed him in so doing. All the salt fell into the marsh; not a single grain hit the prince, whom the thistle, Zeherit, slew with his thorns; and, having thus avenged the murder of Gamaheh, devoted himself to death. It is the genius only,–who interfered in matters not concerning him,–that is the cause of the princess lying so long in the sleep of flowers; the Thistle awoke much earlier; for the death of both was but the same sleep, from which they revived, although in other forms. You will have completed the measure of your gross blunders, if you suppose that the Princess Gamaheh was formed exactly as Dörtje Elverdink now is, and that it is you who restored her to life. It happened to you, my good Leuwenhock, as it did to the awkward servant in the remarkable story of the Three Pomegranates; he freed two maidens from the fruit, without having first assured himself of the means of keeping them in life, and in consequence saw them perish miserably before his eyes. Not you, but he, who has escaped from you, whose loss you so deeply feel and lament;–he it was who completed the work, which you began so awkwardly."
"Ha!" cried the flea-tamer, quite beside himself–"ha! 'twas so I suspected!–But you, Pepusch, you, to whom I have shown so much kindness, you are my worst enemy: I see it well now. Instead of advising me, instead of assisting me in my misfortunes, you amuse me with all manner of nonsensical stories."
"Nonsense yourself!" cried Pepusch, quite indignant: "you'll rue your folly too late, you dreaming charlatan! I go to seek Dörtje Elverdink–but that you may no longer mislead honest people–"
He grasped at the screw which set all the microscopic machinery in motion–
"Take my life at the same time!" roared the flea-tamer; but at the instant all crashed together, and he fell senseless to the ground.–
"How is it," said George Pepusch to himself, when he had got into the street,–"how is it that one, who has the command of a nice warm chamber and a well-stuffed bed, wanders through the streets at night in the rain and storm?–Because he has forgotten the house key, and he is driven moreover by love."
He could answer himself no otherwise, and indeed his whole conduct seemed silly in his own estimation. He remembered the moment when he saw Dörtje Elverdink for the first time. Some years before the Flea-tamer had exhibited his arts in Berlin, and had found no slight audiences as long as the thing was new. Soon, however, people had seen enough of the educated and well-disciplined fleas; and even the paraphernalia of the diminutive race began not to be thought so very wonderful, although at first attributed almost to magic, and Leuwenhock seemed to have fallen into total oblivion. On a sudden a report was spread that a niece of the artist, who had not appeared before, now attended the exhibitions–a beautiful, lovely little maiden, and withal so strangely attired as to baffle description. The world of fashionables, who, like leaders in a concert, are accustomed to give the time and tune to society, now poured in; and, as in this world every thing is in extremes, the niece excited unparalleled astonishment. It soon became the mode to frequent the flea-tamer; he, who had not seen his niece, could not join in the common talk; and thus the artist was saved in his distress. As to the rest, no one could comprehend the name "Dörtje;" and as at this time a celebrated actress was displaying, in the part of the Queen of Golconda, all those high yet soft attractions which are peculiar to the sex, they called the fair Hollander by the royal name, Alina.
When George Pepusch came to Berlin, Leuwenhock's fair niece was the talk of the day; and hence at the table of the hotel, where he lodged, scarcely any thing else was spoken of but the little wonder that delighted all the men, young and old, and even the women themselves. Every one pressed the new-comer to place himself on the pinnacle of the existing mode at Berlin, and see the Hollandress. Pepusch had an irritable, melancholy temperament; in every enjoyment he found too much of the bitter after-taste, which, indeed, comes from the Stygian brook that runs through our whole life, and this made him gloomy and often unjust to all about him. It may be easily supposed, that in this mood he was little inclined to run about after pretty girls; but he went nevertheless to the flea-tamer's, less on account of the dangerous wonder, than to confirm his preconceived opinion that here too, as so often in life, a strange madness was predominating. He found the Hollandress fair, indeed, and agreeable; but in considering her, he could not help smiling with self-satisfaction at his own sagacity, by the help of which he had already guessed that the heads, which the little-one had so perfectly turned, must have been tolerably crazy before they left home.
The maiden had that light easy manner which evinces the best education; a mistress of that delightful coquetry, which, when it offers the finger-tips to any one, at the same time takes from him the power of receiving them, the lovely little creature knew how to attract her numerous visitors, as well as to restrain them within the bounds of the strictest decorum.
None troubled themselves about the stranger, who had leisure enough to observe all the actions of the fair one. But while he continued staring more and more at the beautiful face, there awoke in the deepest recesses of his mind a dark recollection, as if he had somewhere before seen the Hollandress, although in other relations and in other attire, and that he himself had at one time worn a very different form. In vain he tormented himself to bring this recollection to any clearness, yet still the idea of his having really seen the little creature before became more and more determinate. The blood mounted into his face, when at last some one gently jogged him, and whispered in his ear,–"The lightning has struck you too, Mr. Philosopher, has it not?" It was his neighbour of the ordinary, to whom he had asserted that the ecstasy into which all had fallen was no better than madness, which would pass away as quickly as it had arisen.
Pepusch observed, that while he had been gazing so fixedly on the little-one, the hall had grown deserted. Now for the first time she seemed to be aware of his presence, and greeted him with graceful familiarity. From this time he could not get rid of her idea; he tormented himself through a sleepless night, only to come upon the trace of a recollection,–but in vain. The sight of the fair one, he rightly thought, could alone bring him to it; and the next day, and all the following days, he never omitted visiting the flea-tamer, and staring two or three hours together at the beautiful Dörtje Elverdink.
When a man cannot get rid of the idea of a beautiful woman, who has riveted his attention, he has already made the first step towards love; and thus it happened that, at the very time Pepusch fancied he was only poring upon that faint recollection, he was already in love with the fair Hollandress.
Who would now trouble himself about the fleas, over whom Alina had gained so splendid a victory, attracting all within her own circle? The master himself felt that he was playing a somewhat silly part with his insects; he, therefore, locked up the whole troop for other times, and with much dexterity gave to his play another form, in which his niece played the principal character. He had hit upon the happy thought of giving evening entertainments, at a tolerably high rate of subscription, in which, after he had exhibited a few optical illusions, the farther amusement of the company rested with his niece. Here the social talents of the fair one shone in full measure, and she took advantage of the least pause in the entertainment to give a new impulse to the party by songs, which she herself accompanied on the guitar. Her voice was not powerful; her manner was not imposing, often even against rule; but the sweetness and clearness of tone completely answered to her appearance; and when from her dark eyelashes she darted the soft glances, like gentle moonbeams, amongst the spectators, every breast heaved, and the censure of the most confirmed pedant was silenced.
Pepusch diligently prosecuted his studies in these evening entertainments, that is, he stared for two hours together at the Hollandress, and then left the hall with the rest of the company. Once he stood nearer to her than usual, and distinctly heard her saying to a young man,–"Tell me, who is that lifeless spectre, that every evening stares at me for hours, and then disappears without a syllable?"
Pepusch was deeply hurt, and made such a clamour in his chamber, and acted so wildly, that no friend could have recognized him in his mad freaks. He swore, high and low, never again to see the malicious Hollandress; but, for all that, did not fail appearing at Leuwenhock's on the very next evening, at the usual hour, to stare at the lovely Dörtje more fixedly, if that were possible, than ever. It is true, indeed, that even upon the steps he was mightily alarmed at finding himself there, and in all haste adopted the wise resolution of keeping quite at a distance from the fascinating creature. He even carried this plan into effect by creeping into a corner of the hall; but the attempt to cast down his eyes failed entirely, and, as before said, he gazed on the Hollandress more determinedly than ever. Yet he did not know how it happened that on a sudden Dörtje Elverdink was standing in his corner close beside him. With a voice that was melody itself, the fair one said, "I do not remember, sir, having seen you anywhere before our meeting here at Berlin; and yet I find in your features, in all your manner, so much that seems familiar. Nay, it is as if in times long past we had been very intimate, but in a distant country and in other relations. I entreat you, free me from this uncertainty; and, if I am not deceived by some resemblance, let us renew the friendship, which floats in dim recollection like some delightful dream."
George Pepusch felt strangely at this address; his breast heaved, his forehead glowed, and a shudder ran through all his limbs as if he had lain in a violent fever. Though this might mean nothing else than that he was over head and ears in love, yet there was another cause for this perturbation, which robbed him of all speech, and almost of his senses. When Dörtje Elverdink spoke of her belief that she had known him long before, it seemed to him as if another image was presented to his inward mind as in a magic lantern, and he perceived a long removed SELF, which lay far back in time. The idea, that by much meditation had assumed a clear and firm shape, flashed up in this moment, and this was nothing less than that Dörtje Elverdink was the Princess Gamaheh, daughter of King Sekakis, whom he had loved in a remote period, when he flourished as the thistle, Zeherit. It was well that he did not communicate this fancy to other folks, as he would most probably have been reckoned mad, and confined as such; although the fixed idea of a partial maniac may often, perhaps, be nothing more than the illusions of a preceding existence.
"Good God! you seem dumb, sir!" said the little-one, touching George's breast with the prettiest finger imaginable; and from the tip of it shot an electric spark into his heart, and he awoke from his stupefaction. He seized her hand in a perfect ecstasy, covered it with burning kisses, and exclaimed, "Heavenly, angelic creature!" &c. &c. &c. The kind reader will easily imagine all that George Pepusch would exclaim in a such a moment. It is sufficient to say, that she received his love-protests as kindly as could be wished; and that the fateful moment, in the corner of Leuwenhock's hall, brought forth a love affair that first raised the good George Pepusch up to heaven, and then again plunged him into hell. As he happened to be of a melancholy temperament, and withal pettish and suspicious, Dörtje's conduct could not fail of giving rise to many little jealousies. Now it was precisely these jealousies that tickled Dörtje's malicious humour; and it was her delight to torment the poor George Pepusch in a variety of ways: but as every thing can be carried only to a certain point, so at last the long-smothered resentment of the lover blazed forth. He was speaking of that wondrous time when he, as the thistle, Zeherit, had so dearly loved the fair Hollandress, who was then the daughter of King Sekakis, and was reminding her, with all the fire of love, that the circumstance of his battle with the Leech-Prince had given him the most incontestable right to her hand. On her part, she declared that she well remembered it, and had already felt the foreboding of it, when Pepusch gazed on her with the thistle-glance; she spoke, too, so sweetly of these wonderful matters, seemed so inspired with love to the thistle, Zeherit, who had been destined to study at Jena, and then again find the Princess Gamaheh in Berlin, that George Pepusch fancied himself in the Eldorado of all delight. The lovers stood at the window, and the little-one suffered her enamoured friend to wind his arm about her. In this familiar position they caressed each other, for to that at last came the dreamy talk about the wonders in Famagusta, when it chanced that a handsome officer of the guards passed by in a brand-new uniform, and familiarly greeted the little-one, whom he knew from the evening entertainments; Dörtje had half closed her eyes and turned away her head from the street, so that one would have thought it was impossible for her to see the officer; but great is the magic of a fine new uniform! The little-one,–roused, perhaps, by the clatter of the sabre on the pavement,–opened her eyes broad and bright, twisted herself from George's arm, flung open the window, threw a kiss to the officer, and watched him till he had disappeared round the corner.
"Gamaheh!" shouted George Pepusch, quite beside himself–"Gamaheh! what is this? Do you mock me? Is this the faith you have promised to your Thistle?"
The little-one turned round upon her heel, burst into a loud laughter, and exclaimed,–
"Go, go, George; if I am the daughter of the worthy old King Sekakis, if you are the thistle, Zeherit, that dear officer is the genius, Thetel, who, in fact, pleases me much better than the sad thorny thistle."
With this she darted away through the door, while George Pepusch, as might be expected, fell immediately into a fit of desperation, and rushed down the steps as if he had been driven by a thousand devils. Fate would have it, that he met a friend, in a post-chaise, who was leaving Berlin; upon which he called out, "Halt! I go with you;"–flew home, donned a great coat, put money in his purse, gave the key of his room to the hostess, seated himself in the chaise, and posted off with his friend.
Notwithstanding this hostile separation, his love to the fair Hollandress was by no means extinguished; and just as little could he resolve to give up the fair claims, which, as the thistle, Zeherit, he thought he had to the hand and heart of Gamaheh. He renewed, therefore, his pretensions, when some years afterwards he met with Leuwenhock again at the Hague; and how zealously he followed her in Frankfort the reader has learnt already.
George Pepusch was wandering through the streets at night, quite inconsolable, when his attention was attracted by an unusually bright light, that fell upon the street from a crevice in the window-shutter in the lower room of a large house. He thought that there must be fire in the chamber, and swung himself up by means of the iron-work to look in. Boundless was his surprise at what he saw. A large fire blazed in the chimney, which was opposite to the window, before which sate, or rather lay, the little Hollandress in a broad old-fashioned armchair, dressed out like an angel. She seemed to sleep, while a withered old man knelt before the fire, and, with spectacles on his nose, peeped into a kettle, in which he was probably brewing some potion. Pepusch was trying to raise himself higher to get a better view of the group, when he felt himself seized by the legs, and violently pulled down. A harsh voice exclaimed–"Now only see the rascal! To the watch-house, my master!" It was the watchman who had observed George climbing up the window, and could not suppose otherwise than that he wanted to break into the house. In spite of all protestations, George Pepusch was dragged off by the watchman, to whose help the patrol had hastened; and thus his nightly wandering ended merrily in the watch-house.