"Your excellency," said Belcampo, "appears to have laboured under a
strange fatality with regard to this painter. I was drinking my wine in
an adjoining room when the uproar began, and resolved, if possible, to
rescue you, for I alone am the author of all this disturbance."
"How can that be?" said I; "what share could you possibly have in the
disaster?"
"Who can resist momentary impulse?" said the little man, in a tone of
great pathos; "who can withstand the influences of that unseen, but
predominant Spirit, that rules over and inspires all our thoughts and
actions?
"When I arranged your excellency's hair, my mind was, as usual, lighted
up by the sublimest ideas. I resigned myself up to the unbridled impulse
of wild phantasy, and accordingly I not only forgot to bring the lock of
anger on the topmost curls into a state of proper softness and
roundness, but even left seven-and-twenty hairs of fear and horror upon
the forehead.
"The twenty-seven hairs that were thus left, raised themselves erect at
the stern looks of the painter, (who is, in truth, neither more nor less
than a _revenant_,) and inclined themselves longingly towards the lock
of anger on the toupee, which, in return, hissing and rustling, became
dishevelled. All this I could perceive with my own eyes.
"Then, roused to extreme rage, your excellency pulled out a stiletto, on
which I distinguished that there were already drops of blood. But it was
a vain and needless attempt to send to hell him who to hell already
belongs. For this painter is Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew, or Bertram de
Bornis, or Mephistopheles, or Benvenuto Cellini, or Judas Iscariot; in
short, a wicked _revenant_, and, in my opinion, to be banished by no
other means than by burning-hot curling-irons, which shall twist away
into annihilation that idea in which he properly consists; or, by the
dexterous and energetic use of electrical combs, against those thoughts
which, in order to his own existence, he must suck up and imbibe.
"Your excellency perceives that to me, _phantast_ and artist by
profession, such things are, as the French say, _veritable pomade_,
which proverb, borrowed from our science, has more meaning than one
would otherwise suppose, as soon as the pomade is known to contain
genuine oil of cloves."
This mad and unintelligible gibberish of the little man, who, meanwhile,
ran along with me through the streets, had for me, in my present mood of
mind, something truly horrible; and yet, when I looked now and then at
his incredible leaps and springs, his grotesque gestures, and comical
countenances, I was forced, as if by an involuntary convulsion, to
laugh.
At last we were in my own chamber, in the inn of the suburb, and beyond
the town gates. Here Belcampo assisted me to pack up my clothes, etc. and
in a short time all was ready for my departure. Thereafter, I slipped
not one only, but several ducats, into his hand, whereupon he jumped up
into the air for joy, and cried aloud, "Hurrah!--hurrah!--now I have got
gold, indeed--honourable gold, dyed in heart's-blood, streaming and
beaming with its red effulgence! Excuse me, sir," (for at these words I
looked at him with amazement,) "'twas but a passing thought, and now
'tis gone!"
He then offered his services to give to the "lock of anger" the proper
degree of roundness, and cut away the "twenty-seven hairs of horror,"
requesting also that he might be allowed to choose for himself a small
"love-lock," to keep as a remembrance. This I accordingly granted, and
with indescribable gestures and grimaces, he fulfilled his task.
After this, he seized the stiletto, which, on undressing, I had laid
upon the table, and taking the position of a fencer, made with it divers
cuts and thrusts into the air.
"Ha!" said he, "now shall I make an end of your adversary, for he
is but an idea, probably he may also be extirpated by a thought. Let him
die, then, by this thought of mine, which, in order to render more
powerful, I accompany with suitable gestures of the body--_Apage,
Satanas!--apage, Ahasuerus!--Allez vous en!_--Now, that was
something like! That was working to some purpose," said he, laying down
the stiletto, breathing hard, and wiping his brows, like one that has
exerted his utmost to get through some great labour.
Luckily I now got possession of the stiletto, and, wishing to conceal
it, groped with it into my sleeve, forgetting that I no longer wore my
capuchin robes. This gesture the man seemed to remark, and slyly to
laugh at. Meanwhile the postilion (for I had ordered horses) began to
blow his bugle before the house.
Then Belcampo suddenly changed his posture and tone. He drew out a small
pocket-handkerchief, bent himself several times with deep reverence, at
last kneeled before me, and entreated in a lamentable voice--
"Two masses, reverend father, I beseech you, for my poor grandmother,
who died of a surfeit; four for my father, who died of involuntary
fasting; but for myself, one every week when I am dead. Above all,
however, and in the first place, an indulgence for my many faults and
sins now, while I am yet living!
"Alas! sir, there is an infamous wicked fellow that lurks concealed
within me, and says, 'Peter Fairfield, be no longer an ass, and believe
that thou existest; for _I_ am properly _thou_, and am called
Belcampo--moreover am a genial idea; and if thou dost not believe this,
I will strike thee down to the earth with an acute thought, finely
pointed as a hair!'
"This damnable fellow, sir, commits all sorts of sins and wicked pranks.
Oftentimes he doubts of the Real Presence--gets drunk--falls into
quarrels and pommelling matches, and commits gross indelicacies against
pure virgin thoughts. This Pietro Belcampo, sir, has made me, Peter
Fairfield, quite confused and dissipated; so that I frequently jump
about in an absurd and unbecoming manner, and defile the spotless garb
of innocence, when, with white silk stockings, and singing _dulce
jubilo_, I splash unawares into the dirt. Forgiveness, then, venerable
father, for both, for Peter Fairfield and Pietro Belcampo."
He continued prostrate, and pretended to sob violently. The folly of the
man became tiresome to me. "Be reasonable at least," said I to him, "and
give us no more of this." The head-waiter now came in to take my
luggage. Belcampo sprung up, and resuming at once his mirthful humour,
he assisted, talking, however, all the time, to collect together
whatever property of mine was in the room. In a few moments I found
myself seated in my cabriolet.
"That fellow is a most complete puppy," said the waiter, in a low voice,
and pointing to Belcampo; "the less one has to do with him the better."
The door was closed, and the postilion mounted. Belcampo waved his hat,
and began, "Even to the last breath of my life--" but with a significant
look, I laid my finger on my lips, and he was silent. Anon the postilion
drove off, blowing the _Tyroler-lied_ on his bugle as we clattered along
the _chaussee_, and I was once more, emancipated from all ties, whether
hostile or friendly, thrown upon the world.
* * * * *
When the morning began to dawn, the town from which I had fled lay far
behind me; and as I contemplated with some interest the new scenes
through which we passed, the form of that frightful man, who pursued and
haunted me like a visible impersonization of the guilt and mystery by
which my life had been darkened, had again almost vanished away. On
setting out, I had merely desired to be driven to the first stage on the
high road leading southwards; but at every new station, the questions of
the postmaster, "_Whence and whither?_" revived to my mind how
completely I was now separated and cut off from every relationship in
life; and like the wandering Ahasuerus, of whom Belcampo had spoken, was
utterly given up, a prey to the stormy waves of chance, that bore me
like a powerless wreck along.
But had not my ruling destiny drawn me thus out of my former
relationships and dependencies, only that the internal efforts of my
spirit might be exerted with greater life and vigour? Something must be
accomplished, in order to still those yearnings of the soul, by which I
was convinced that a great and important result was before me. Restless
I travelled on, through a beautiful and flourishing country. Nowhere
could I find repose, but was driven irresistibly onward, always farther
and farther, towards the south. I had hitherto, without any
consciousness or attention on my own part, scarcely made any important
deviation from the route recommended to me by Leonardus; so that the
impulse which he had given to me at first setting out, seemed to work
always in a straight-forward direction, and with an influence wholly
uninterrupted.
* * * * *
It happened, one very dark night, that I travelled through a dense wood
of pine and beech-trees, which was said to extend as far as the next
station, on which account the postmaster had advised me to remain with
him till the next morning; but from an impatience, to myself
unaccountable, as I was unable to put a name on any goal or object which
I wished to reach, I peremptorily refused his proposal.
Already, at the time of my departure, lightning, which is not usual at
that season of the year, gleamed on the distant horizon; and very soon,
clouds, collected by the approaching storm, rolled together, darker and
darker, in threatening volumes. The postilion observed what sort of
weather we should of necessity encounter; pointed to the clouds, and
asked if he might return? To this I gave a peremptory answer in the
negative. We entered accordingly that long, interminable, and tangled
forest which stretches between Holzenheim and Rosenthurm, where the wood
alternately consists of tall beech-trees and dense thickets of Norway
and Scotch fir. Having laid aside his tobacco-pipe, he began here, for
his diversion, to play "Malbrook" on his bugle; but anon the thunder
began to roll, and even to crack above our heads, with numberless
reverberations; while, far as the eye could reach, there was nothing but
the crossing and re-crossing of red lightnings on the horizon. Such a
tempest I have never witnessed, neither before nor since. During a
thunderstorm, the air is generally calm, but now there were
unaccountable gusts of wind, such as usually occur only in the depth of
winter. The tall fir-trees, shaken to their very roots, groaned and
crashed. The rain poured down in torrents. Every moment we ran the risk
of being killed by the falling of the trees, and the horses constantly
reared, and ran back from the flashes of lightning.
At last, after a long struggle, and many vicissitudes, we were "beat to
a _stand still_," for the carriage (as a climax) was overturned, on a
piece of rough road, so violently, that one of the hinder wheels broke
in pieces. Thus we had no alternative, but must remain on the spot, till
the storm should abate, and the moon break through the clouds.
The postilion now remarked, that, on account of the darkness, and the
rain driving in his face, he had quite wandered away from the right
road, and had fallen into an avenue of the forest. There was now no
other method, but to follow out this avenue as far as it would go, and
thus perhaps to arrive at some woodman's hut or village.
Though the darkness continued, yet we contrived to prop up the carriage
with a kind of wooden leg, and thus it was dragged gradually onwards. We
had not gone far, till, marching in the van, I perceived now and then
the gleaming of a light, and thought that I could distinguish the baying
of dogs.
I had not deceived myself; for we had not persevered in our laborious
progress above a few minutes longer, before I distinctly heard the
dogs' voices; and in due time we came to an opening in the wood, where
the road became more passable. At last we arrived at a large
respectable-looking house, though, as far as the dim light enabled us to
perceive, old, gloomy, and surrounded by the high walls of a
regularly-built square court.
The postilion, without hesitation, knocked loudly at the outer gate. The
dogs immediately grew outrageous, and sprang out from their kennels
against us. In the house, (or _keep_,) however, all remained quiet and
dead, till the postilion had recourse to his horn, (lending me a spare
one, that we might play a duet,) and blew "Wilhelmus von Nassau" with
such vehemence, that the old vaulted building re-echoed to the notes.
Then a window in the upper story, from which I had before seen the
light, was opened, and a deep, rough voice called out, "Christian!
Christian!"--"Ay, ay, sir," cried a voice from below. Then we knocked
again, and blew our horns.
"There is a knocking and blowing of bugles at our gate," said the voice
from above, "and the dogs are raging like devils. Take the lantern
down, with the blunderbuss number three, and see what is the
matter."--Soon after, we heard Christian's voice, quieting the dogs, and
saw him at last come with the lantern.