has hit his nose somewhat roughly, and, being suddenly awakened out of
his heaven by the earthly pain, has tumbled down again into the vulgar
world. Just so it chanced with our Mr. Tyss. In stooping down to kiss
Doertje's sweet mouth, he gave his nose, of goodly dimensions, a hard
blow against the diadem of shining brilliants, which the little one
wore in her raven locks. The pain of the blow upon the sharp points of
the stone brought him sufficiently to himself to perceive the diadem.
The diadem reminded him of the Princess Gamaheh, and with this
recollection recurred all that Master Flea had told him of the little
syren. He bethought himself that a Princess, the daughter of a mighty
king, could not possibly care about his love, and therefore all her
pretended affection must be a mere trick, by which the dissembler hoped
to regain possession of Master Flea. With this consideration a cold
ice-stream seemed to rush through his veins, which, if it did not quite
extinguish, at least damped, the love-flames.
Peregrine gently freed himself from the arms of the little one, who had
lovingly embraced him, and said with downcast eyes, "Oh, heavens! you
are the daughter of the mighty King Sekakis, the beautiful Gamaheh.
Your pardon, princess, if a feeling, which I could not master, hurried
me into folly, into madness. But yourself, lady,--"
"What are you saying, my fair friend?" interrupted Doertje Elverdink; "I
the daughter of a mighty king? I a princess? I am your Alina, who will
love you to distraction, if you,--but how is this?--Alina, the queen of
Golconda? she is already with you; I have spoken with her--a good kind
woman, but she has grown old, and is no longer so handsome as in the
time of her marriage with the French general. Woe is me! I am not the
right one; I never ruled in Golconda. Woe is me!"
The little one had closed her eyes, and began to totter. Peregrine
conveyed her to a sofa.
"Gamaheh!" she went on, speaking in a state of somnambulism, "Gamaheh,
do you say? Gamaheh, the daughter of King Sekakis? Yes, I recollect, in
Famagusta!--I was indeed a beautiful tulip--Yet no, even then I felt
desire and love in my breast.--Still, still on that point!"
She was silent, and seemed to be falling into a perfect slumber.
Peregrine undertook the perilous enterprise of placing her in a more
convenient position, but, as he gently embraced her, a concealed pin
prickled him sharply in the finger. According to his custom he snapt
his fingers, and Master Flea, taking it for the concerted signal,
immediately placed the microscopic glass in his eye.
Now, as usual, Peregrine saw behind the tunicle of the eyes the strange
interweaving of nerves and veins, which pierced deep into the brain.
But with these were twined bright silver threads, a hundred times
thinner than the thinnest spider's web, and it was these very threads
that confused him, for they seemed to be endless, branching out into a
something, indistinguishable even by the microscopic eye; perhaps they
were thoughts of a sublimer kind, the others of a sort more easily
comprehended. Then he observed flowers, strangely blended, which took
the shape of men, then again men, who dissolved as it were into the
earth, and peeped forth again as stones and metals. Amongst these all
manner of beasts were in motion, who underwent innumerable changes, and
spoke strange languages. No one appearance answered to the other, and
in the plaintive sounds of sorrow that filled the air, there was a
dissonance, corresponding with that of the images. But it was this very
dissonance that ennobled still more the deep fundamental harmony, which
broke out triumphantly, and united all that seemed irreconcileable.
"Do not puzzle yourself," whispered Master Flea, "do not puzzle
yourself, my good Peregrine; those which you see, are the images of a
dream. Even if any thing more should lurk behind them, now is not the
time for farther inquiry. Only call the little deceiver by her real
name, and then sift her as much as you please."
As the lady had many names, it must have been difficult, one would have
thought, for Peregrine to hit upon the right, but, without the least
reflection, he exclaimed, "Doertje Elverdink! dear, charming girl; was
it no deceit? Is it possible that you can love me?"
Immediately the little one awoke from her dreamy state, opened her eye,
and said with burning glance, "What a doubt, my Peregrine! Could a
maiden do as I have done, unless her breast were filled with the most
glowing passion? Peregrine, I love you more than any one, and, if you
will be mine, I am yours with my whole soul, and remain with you
because I cannot leave you, and not merely to escape from the tyranny
of my uncle."
The silver threads had disappeared, and the thoughts, properly
arranged, ran thus:--"How is this? At first I feigned a passion for him
only to regain Master Flea for myself and Leuwenhock; and now I
actually am fond of him. I have caught myself in my own snares. I think
no more of Master Flea, and would like to be his, who seems lovelier to
me than any man I have ever seen."
It may be easily supposed what effect these thoughts produced in
Peregrine's breast. He fell on his knees before the fair one, covered
her hand with a thousand burning kisses, called her his joy, his
heaven, his whole happiness.
"Well!" lisped the maiden, drawing him gently to her side, "well, my
love, you certainly will not deny a request, on the fulfilment of which
depends the repose, nay, the very existence of your beloved."
"Demand," replied Peregrine, tenderly embracing her, "demand any thing,
my life,--any thing you will; your slightest wish is my command.
Nothing in the world is so dear to me that I would not with pleasure
sacrifice it to you and your affection."
"Woe is me!" lisped Master Flea; "who could have imagined that the
little traitress would have conquered? I am lost!"
"Hear then," replied Gamaheh, after having returned with equal fire the
glowing kisses, which Peregrine imprinted on her lips, "hear then; I
know how the--"
The door burst open, and in rushed George Pepusch.
"Zeherit!" cried the little one in despair, and fell back on the sofa,
senseless.
The Thistle, Zeherit, flew to the princess, took her in his arms, and
ran off with the speed of lightning.
For this time Master Flea was saved.
Fifth Adventure.
Thoughts of poetical young enthusiasts and female
blue-stockings.--Peregrine's reflections upon his life, and Master
Flea's learning and understanding.--Singular virtue and firmness of Mr.
Tyss.--Unexpected conclusion of an event that threatened tragically.
With the speed of lightning,--as the reader has already learnt at the
conclusion of the fourth adventure,--George Pepusch snatched the fair
one from the arms of the enamoured Peregrine, and left him behind
petrified with astonishment and terror. When at length the latter came
to his recollection, and would have followed his robber-friend, all was
still and desolate in the house. Upon his repeated calling, the old
Alina came pattering up the stairs from one of the farthest rooms, and
declared that she had not observed any, the slightest, part of the
whole business.
Peregrine was nigh going mad at the loss of Doertje, but Master Flea
began to console him in a tone that must have inspired the most
desperate with confidence: "You are not yet quite certain, my dear Mr.
Peregrine, whether the fair Doertje Elverdink has really left your
house. As well as I can judge of such things, she is not far off; I
seem to feel her nearness. But, if you will follow my friendly counsel,
you will leave her to her fate. Trust me, she is as capricious as the
wind; it may be, as you have said, that she now is really fond of you,
but how long will it be before she plunges you into such misery, that
you will be in danger from it of losing your reason, like the Thistle,
Zeherit? I say again, give up your lonely way of life. You will be the
better for it. How many women have you known, that you should take
Doertje for the handsomest of her sex? What maiden have you approached
with love, that you should believe that Doertje alone can love you? Go
to, Peregrine; experience will show you better. You are a well-made,
handsome man, and I should not be so keen-sighted, as Master Flea
really is, if I could not see beforehand that love would smile upon you
in a very different way from what you may expect."
Peregrine had already broken the ice by going abroad in public places,
and it was therefore the less difficult for him to visit societies,
from which he had formerly withdrawn himself. In this Master Flea
rendered him excellent service with his microscopic glass, and he is
said during this time to have kept a day-book, and to have made notes
of the most remarkable and pleasant contradictions between words and
thoughts, as they daily occurred to him. Perhaps the editor of this
strange tale, called Master Flea, may find some future opportunity of
bringing to light many worthy impartments from this same day-book; here
it would only stop the current of the history, and, therefore, would
not be welcome to the reader. So much, however, may be said, that many
of the phrases with the corresponding thoughts seemed to be stereotyped
as it were; as for example,--"Favour me with your advice;"--the thought
being, "He is fool enough to think I ask his advice in a matter that I
have long since resolved upon, and that tickles him." "I have the most
perfect confidence in you;"--the thought being, "I knew long ago that
you were a scoundrel," &c. c. It should also be mentioned that many
folks mightily puzzled Peregrine with his microscopic observations.
These were the young men, who fell into raptures upon every thing, and
poured themselves forth in a torrent of splendid phrases. Amongst these
the most remarkable were the young poets, who were boiling over with
imagination and genius, and were particularly adored by the ladies. To
these were associated the blue-stockings, who were as familiar with
metaphysics as the less learned part of their sex with scandal, and
could talk like any parson in his pulpit. If it seemed strange to
Peregrine that the silver threads should twine together out of
Gamaheh's brain into an undistinguishable something, he was not a
little astonished at what he saw in the heads of those above mentioned.
He saw indeed the strange weaving of nerves and veins, but remarked at
the same time, that when the owners of them spoke most learnedly on art
and science, they did not penetrate the brain, but were reflected
outwards, so that all recognition of the thoughts was out of the
question. He imparted his observation to Master Flea, who usually sate
in a fold of his neckcloth, and Master Flea was of opinion, that what
Peregrine took for thoughts were in reality none, but merely words,
which in vain endeavoured to become thoughts.
If Mr. Tyss began now to amuse himself in society, his faithful
companion also laid aside much of his gravity, and exhibited himself as
a knavish little voluptuary, an amiable _roue_. He could not see the
fair neck or the white bosom of any beauty, without slipping out of his
hiding-place with the first opportunity, and springing on the inviting
spot, where he very dexterously contrived to elude the attacks of
pursuing fingers. This man[oe]uvre combined a double interest. In the
first place, he found a pleasure in it for the thing itself; and then,
he hoped, by drawing Peregrine's attention to the fair ones, to cast
Doertje's image into shadow. This, however, seemed to be a fruitless
labour, for none of all the ladies, whom he now approached without the
least timidity, seemed to him so fair and lovely as his little
princess. The great cause however of his continued constancy was, that
in none he found the words and thoughts so united in his favour as with
her. He was convinced that he could never leave her, and this he
repeated incessantly. Master Flea was in no little alarm.
One day Peregrine remarked that the old Alina laughed very cunningly,
took snuff more frequently than usual, muttered strangely, in short,
acted altogether like one who is big with a secret and would fain be
disburthened of it. To every thing she replied, "Yes, one can't tell
that!--one must wait!" whether these words were suited to the occasion
or not, till at last Peregrine, full of impatience, exclaimed, "Speak
it out at once; tell me what is the matter, without creeping around me
with those mysterious looks."
"Ah!" cried the old woman, clasping her withered hands together, "ah!
the dear little thing! the sweet little puppet!"
"Whom do you mean?" asked Peregrine angrily.
"Ah!" said the old woman, smirking, "ah! whom should I mean but our
princess, below here with Mr. Swammer,--your bride, Mr. Tyss?"
"Woman!" cried Mr. Tyss, "unlucky woman, she is here!--in the
house!--and you do not tell me till now?"
"Where,"--replied the old woman, without in the least losing her
composure,--"where should the princess be but here, where she has found
her mother?"
"How!" cried Peregrine--"what is it you say, Alina?"
"Yes," rejoined the old woman, drawing herself up--"yes, Alina is my
right name, and who knows what else may come to light, in a short time,
before your nuptials?"
Peregrine entreated her, by all the angels and devils, to go on; but,
without paying the least attention to his hurry, she seated herself
snugly in the arm-chair, drew out her snuffbox, took a prodigious
pinch, and demonstrated to Peregrine very circumstantially, that there
was no worse failing than impatience.
"Calmness, my son, calmness, is above all things requisite, or
otherwise you run the risk of losing all in the moment that you think
you have gained it. Before you get a word out of me, you must first
promise to seat yourself there, quite quietly like a pretty-behaved
child, and for the life of you not to interrupt me in my story."
Nothing was left to Peregrine but to obey the old woman, who, when he
had seated himself, related things that were strange enough to hear.
According to the old woman's tale, the two gentlemen, namely,
Swammerdamm and Leuwenhock, had another tough struggle in the chamber,
and for a time kept up a terrible clatter. Then again all had become
quite still, when a heavy moaning had made her fancy that one of the
two was mortally wounded; but on peeping through the keyhole she
perceived something quite different from what she had expected.
Swammerdamm and Leuwenhock had seized George Pepusch, and stroaked and
squeezed him with their fists, so that he grew thinner and thinner;
during which operation he had uttered the moans heard by the old woman.
At last, when he had grown as thin as a thistle-stem, they had tried to
squeeze him through the keyhole, and the poor Pepusch was hanging with
half his body out, when she ran away in terror. Soon afterwards she
heard a loud laughing, and saw Pepusch in his natural form, quietly led
out of the house by the two magicians, while at the room-door stood
Doertje and beckoned her in. The little one wished to dress herself, and
needed her assistance.
The old woman could not talk enough of the great heap of clothes which
the princess brought out of a variety of chests and showed to her, each
of which had appeared richer than the other. She declared that none but
an Indian princess could possess such jewels as the little one; her
eyes still ached with the glitter. She then went on to say how, during
the dressing, she had talked of this and that, of the late Mr. Tyss, on
the delightful life they had formerly led in the house, and at last the
conversation had fallen upon her deceased relations.
"You know, my dear Mr. Tyss, that nothing is more valued by me than my
late cousin, the calico-printer's wife. She was in Maintz, and, I
believe, even in the Indies, and could speak French and sing. If I owe
to my cousin the unchristian name of Alina, I will forgive her that in
the grave, since it is from her alone that I have learnt polite manners
and the art of speaking elegantly. As I was talking much of my cousin,
the little princess asked after my father, my grandfather, and so on,
higher and higher up the family. I opened my heart to her, told her
that my mother had been almost as handsome as myself, except that I go
beyond her in regard to the nose, which I derive from my father, and
which is after the shape that has been usual in the family since the
memory of man. Then I came to speak of the country-wake, when I waltzed
with Serjeant Drumstick, and wore the skyblue stockings with red
clocks. Ah, dear God! we are all weak, sinful creatures! But oh! Mr.
Tyss, you should have seen how the little princess, who at first had
laughed and tittered, that it was a pleasure to hear her, now grew more
and more quiet, and gazed on me with such odd looks, that I began to be
terribly alarmed.--And then think, Mr. Tyss, on a sudden, before I
could prevent it, she lies on her knees before me, and will positively
kiss my hand, exclaiming, 'Yes, it is you! Now I recognise you! It is
yourself!'--and when, quite astonished, I asked what it all meant,----"
Here the old woman stopt, and, when Peregrine pressed her to go on, she
with great gravity and precision took a mighty pinch of snuff, and
said,
"You'll know in good time, my son, what farther happened. Every thing
has its time and hour."
He was now more urgent than ever with the old woman to proceed, when
she burst out into a roaring fit of laughter; upon which he admonished
her, with a very sour face, that his room was not exactly the place for
her to play off such fooleries. But the old woman, planting her hands
in her sides, seemed ready to burst. The burning red of her brow
changed to an agreeable mahogany, and Peregrine was upon the point of
flinging a glass of water into the old woman's face, when she recovered
her breath and speech at the same time.
"I can't help laughing," she said, "I can't help laughing at the
foolish little thing. No; such love is no longer on earth. Only think,
Mr. Tyss,----"
Here she broke out into a fresh fit of laughter, and Peregrine's
patience was well nigh exhausted. At last, with much difficulty, he got
out of her that the little princess had taken up the whimsical notion
of Mr. Tyss being positively determined to marry the old woman, and had
compelled her solemnly to promise to reject his hand.
It seemed to Peregrine as if he were mixed up in a scene of witchery,
and he felt so strangely, that even the honest old Alina appeared to
him a supernatural kind of being, from whom he could not fly with
sufficient speed. But she still detained him, having something to
communicate in all haste, that concerned the little princess.
"It is now certain," she said confidentially,--"it is now certain, my
dear Mr. Tyss, that the bright star of fortune has arisen, but it is
your business to keep it favourable. When I protested to the little one
that you were desperately smitten with her, and far from any idea of
marrying me, she replied, that she could not be convinced of it and
give you her hand till you had complied with a wish that had long sate
near her heart. She says, that she had a pretty little negro boy in her
service who had fled from her; I have, indeed, denied it, but she
maintains that the boy is so little he might live in a nutshell.
"Nothing will ever come of this," exclaimed Peregrine violently, well
knowing what the old woman was driving at, and rushed out of the room,
and then out of the house, with great vehemence.
It is an established custom, that when the hero of a tale is under any
violent agitation, he should run out into a forest, or, at least, into
some lonely wood; and the custom is good, because it really prevails in
life. Hence it could not be otherwise with Mr. Tyss, than that he ran
from his house without stopping, till he had left the city behind him
and reached a remote wood. Moreover, as in a romantic history no wood
must be without rustling leaves, sighing breezes, murmuring brooks, &c.
&c. it is to be supposed that Peregrine found all these things in his
place of refuge. Upon a mossy stone, the lower half of which lay in a
bright brook, Peregrine sate down with a firm resolution to reflect on
his strange adventures, and, if possible, find the Ariadne clue which
might show the way out of this labyrinth of mysteries. The murmurs of
the leaves, returning at equal intervals, the monotonous babbling of
the waters, the constant clap, clap of a distant mill, soon formed a
ground which regulated the thoughts so that they no longer rushed
wildly together without time or rhythmus, but became an intelligible
melody. Thus, after sitting some time on this pleasant spot, he got to
reflect calmly.
"In reality," he said to himself, "a fantastic tale-writer could not
have invented wilder events than I have actually gone through in the
short space of a few days. Beauty, love itself visits the lonely
mysogunist, and a look, a word, is sufficient to fan, in his breast,
the flames which he had dreaded without knowing them. But the time, the
place, the whole appearance of the strange syren are so mysterious,
that it seems to be the result of magic;--And then it is not long
before a despised little insect evinces knowledge, understanding, nay,
even a sort of supernatural power. And this creature talks of things,
which to common minds are incomprehensible, in a way as if it all were
nothing more than the familiar to-day and yesterday of usual life, as
it appears repeated for the thousandth time.
"Have I come too near the fly-wheel, that dark unknown powers are
driving, and has it caught me in its whirlings? Would not one believe,
that the reason must be lost with such things, when they cross the path
of life? And yet I find myself quite well, withal: nay, it no longer
seems strange to me that a Flea-king should have sought my protection,
and, in requital have entrusted me with a mystery that opens to me the
secrets of thought, and thus sets me above the deceptions of life. But
whither will or can all this lead? How, if under this singular mask of
a flea, an evil demon lurked, who sought to lure me into destruction,
who aimed to rob me of all the happiness that might bloom to me in the
possession of Doertje? Were it not better to get rid at once of the
little monster?"
"That was a very pitiful idea, Mr. Tyss!" exclaimed Master Flea,
interrupting Peregrine's soliloquy. "Do you imagine that the mystery I
have entrusted to you is a trifle? Should not this gift pass for the
most decided proof of my sincere friendship? Shame on you for being
suspicious! You are surprised at the reason, the mind, of a little
despised insect; and that proves,--don't be offended,--the narrowness
of your education in science. I wish, in regard to the thinking
instinctive soul of animals, you had read the Greek Philo, or, at
least, the treatise of Hieronymus Rorarius, '_quod animalia bruta
ratione utantur melius homine_; or his oration '_Pro muribus_;'--or
that you knew what Lipsius and the great Leibnitz thought of the mental
power of beasts, or that you were aware what the profound Rabbi
Maimonides has said about their souls; you would not then take me for a
demon on account of my understanding, or measure the spiritual
faculties by the proportions of the body. I suppose, at last, you will
come to the shrewd opinion of the Spanish physician, Gomez Pereira, who
could find nothing more in animals than mere artificial machines,
without thought or freedom of will, moving arbitrarily and
automatically. Yet, no; I cannot deem you so absurd, and am convinced
that you have long ago learnt better through my humble person.
Moreover, I do not well understand what you call wonders, or in what
way you are able to divide, into the wonderful and natural, the
appearances of our being, which, in reality, are ourselves, as we and
they mutually condition each other. Do not, therefore, wonder at any
thing because it has not yet occurred to you, or because you fancy you
do not see the connexion of cause and effect; that only proves the
natural or diseased obtuseness of your sight, which injures your
perception. But,--do not take it amiss, Mr. Peregrine,--the drollest
part of the business is, that you want to split yourself into two
parts, one of which recognises and willingly believes the so-called
wonders; the other, on the contrary, is mightily astonished at this
recognition and belief. Has it ever occurred to you, that you believe
in the images of dreams?"
"I!" exclaimed Peregrine--"My dear fellow, how can you talk of dreams,
which are only the result of some disorder in our corporeal or
intellectual structure?"
At these words Master Flea burst into a laugh, as fine as it was
mocking, and then said to Mr. Tyss, who was not a little confounded,