do not see the folly of such opinions? Since the time that Chaos
melted together into plastic matter,--it may be a tolerably long time
ago,--the spirit of the universe has formed all shapes out of this
existing material, and from this come also dreams and their images.
These images are sketches of what has been, or probably of what is yet
to be, which the soul rapidly puts together for its amusement, when the
tyrant, called body, has released it from its slavish servitude. But
here is neither time nor place to refute you, and bring you to a better
conviction; perhaps, too, it would be of no use whatever to you: one
thing only I should like to explain."
"Dear master," cried Peregrine, "speak, or be silent, as you think
proper; do what to you seems best; for I plainly perceive that, however
small you may be, you have deep knowledge and sound understanding. You
compel from me unconditional confidence, although I do not quite
comprehend your figurative modes of speech."
"Learn then," resumed Master Flea, "that you are very strangely
implicated in the history of the Princess Gamaheh. Swammerdamm and
Leuwenhock, the Thistle, Zeherit, and the Leech-Prince, as well as the
Genius, Thetel, are all striving after the princess; and even I myself
must confess that, alas! my old passion is reviving, and I could be
fool enough to share my sovereignty with the false fair-one. But
you,--you, Mr. Peregrine, are the principal person, and, without your
consent, Gamaheh can belong to no one. If you wish to understand the
more particular connexion of the whole, which I myself do not know, you
must speak to Leuwenhock about it; he has found it out, and will
certainly let out much, if you will take the pains, and know how to
question him."
Master Flea was about to continue, when a man leapt from the bushes in
boiling passion, and flew upon Peregrine.
"Ha!" cried George Pepusch, with frantic gestures,--for it was
he,--"Ha! faithless, treacherous friend! have I found you?--found you
in the fateful hour? Up then! pierce this breast, or fall by my hand."
With this he drew a brace of pistols from his pocket, pressed one into
Peregrine's hand, and took his ground with the other, crying, "Shoot,
coward! shoot!"
Peregrine placed himself, but declared that nothing should induce him
to the incurable madness of entering into a duel with his only friend,
without even a suspicion of the cause. At all events he would in no
case be the first to begin a murderous attack.
At this Pepusch burst into a wild laugh, and in the same moment the
ball went through Peregrine's hat. The latter remained staring at his
friend, in profound silence, without picking up the hat, which had
fallen to the ground, when Pepusch advanced a few steps towards him,
and murmured in a hollow voice, "shoot!"--Peregrine fired his pistol in
the air.
With the voice and gestures of a madman, Pepusch now flung himself upon
his friend's breast, and cried out, in heart-rending tones,--"She is
dying! dying for you, unlucky one! Quick!--save her! You can do
it--save her for yourself, and let me perish in my despair!"
Pepusch ran off so fast that Peregrine had lost sight of him on the
instant; and now a fearful foreboding came over him, that his friend's
mad behaviour must have been occasioned by something terrible which had
happened to the little-one: whereupon he hastened back to the city.
On entering his house, he was met by the old woman, loudly lamenting
that the poor princess was on the sudden taken violently ill, and was
dying. Mr. Swammer himself had gone after the most celebrated physician
in Frankfort.
With the feelings of death at his heart, he crept into Mr. Swammer's
room that was opened to him by the old woman. There lay the little-one
upon a sofa, pale and stiff like a corse; and it was not till he knelt
down and bent over her that he perceived her gentle breathing. No
sooner had he touched her icy hand, than a painful smile played about
her lips, and she lisped,--
"Is it you, my sweet friend? Have you come to see her once again, who
loves you so unspeakably,--who dies, alas! because she cannot breathe
without you?"
Dissolving in sorrow, Peregrine poured himself forth in protestations
of the tenderest love, and repeated, that nothing in the world was so
dear to him that he would not sacrifice it to her. Out of words grew
kisses, but in these kisses again words, like the breathings of love,
were distinguishable.
"You know, my Peregrine, how much I love you. I can be yours; you,
mine,--I can recover on the spot--you will see me bloom again in my
youthful splendour, like a flower refreshed by the morning dew, and
joyfully lifting up his drooping head--but--give me up the prisoner, my
dear, beloved Peregrine, or else you will see me perish, before your
eyes, in unutterable death-pangs.----Peregrine--I can no more--it is
all over!"
With this she sank back upon the cushions, from which she had half
raised herself; her bosom heaved tumultuously up and down, as if, in
the death-pangs; her lips grew bluer, and her eyes seemed to break.
In wild anguish Peregrine caught at his neckcloth, from which Master
Flea now leapt, of his own accord, upon the white neck of the
little-one, exclaiming, in a tone of the deepest grief--"I am lost I!"
Peregrine stretched out his hand to catch the Master, but suddenly it
seemed as if some invisible power held back his arm; and far other
thoughts ran through his head than those which till now had occupied
it.
"How!" thought he--"because you are a frail man, and influenced by a
mad passion, will you therefore betray him, to whom you have promised
your protection? Will you therefore plunge a free, harmless people into
eternal slavery, and utterly ruin the friend whose thoughts and words
agree?--No--no--recollect yourself, Peregrine!--Rather die than be a
traitor!"
"Give--up--the prisoner--I am dying!" stammered the little one, with
failing voice.
"No!" cried Peregrine, while in despair he caught her in his
arms--"No! never! But let me die with you!"
And now a fine, penetrating harmony was heard, as if little silver
bells were struck. Doertje, with fresh roses on her lips and cheeks,
started up suddenly from the sofa, and, breaking into a convulsive
laughter, skipt about the chamber. She seemed to have been bit by the
tarantula.
Peregrine gazed in terror on the strange spectacle, and the same did
the physician, who stood at the door quite petrified, keeping out Mr.
Swammer, who had followed him.
Sixth Adventure.
Strange behaviour of strolling jugglers in a tavern, together
with a tolerable buffeting.--Tragical history of a tailor at
Sachsenhausen.--How George Pepusch astonished some honest folks.--The
horoscope.--Pleasant battle of some well-known people in Leuwenhock's
apartments.
All the passers-by stopt, stretched out their necks and peeped through
the window into the coffee-room. With every moment the crowd grew
greater, the pressure more violent, and the noise louder. All this was
occasioned by two strangers, who, besides that their form, their dress,
their whole manner had something extraordinary about it, that was
repulsive and ridiculous at the same time, played off many wonderful
tricks, such as had never been seen before. The one, an old man, of a
dirty, disagreeable appearance, was dressed in a surtout of shining
stuff. Sometimes he made himself thin and long, sometimes he would
shrink himself up to a short fat fellow, winding about all the
time like a worm. The other, with powdered hair, motly silk coat,
under-dress of the same, large silver buckles, and altogether
resembling a petit-maitre of the last half of the foregoing century,
repeatedly flew up to the ceiling, and then gently let himself down
again, while, with a cheerful voice, he trilled discordant songs in a
language altogether unknown.
According to the host's declaration, they had both come in--one a short
time after the other--like orderly people, and had called for wine.
Then they had gazed more and more keenly on each other, and entered
into conversation; and although the language of it was unintelligible
to all the guests, yet their tone and manner showed they were engaged
in a dispute, which grew warmer and warmer. On a sudden they had taken
their present form and began these mad tricks, which continually
attracted more spectators.
"The man, who flies up and down so admirably," exclaimed one of the
spectators, "is the clock-maker, Degen, of Vienna--he who invented the
flying machine, with which he is constantly contriving to tumble down
upon his nose."
"No," replied another; "that is not the clock-maker. I should rather
fancy that it was the Little Tailor of Sachsenhausen, if I did not know
that the poor thing was burnt."
I know not whether my readers are acquainted with the Little Tailor of
Sachsenhausen? Here it is.
_History of the Little Tailor of Sachsenhausen._
It happened that a pious little tailor, at Sachsenhausen, was coming
out of church one Sunday with his wife, in all his best attire. The air
was raw, the little tailor had taken nothing over night but a soft
boiled egg and a few pickled gerkins, and in the morning a cup of
coffee. Moreover he had been singing most vehemently in the church, and
hence he began to feel in a piteous plight, and to long for a dram. As
he had worked hard through the week, and had been particularly kind to
his better-half, making her a very pretty gown out of the pieces
cabbaged from his customers, she consented to his going into the
apothecary's and getting himself a dram, which he did accordingly. The
awkward apprentice, who was alone in the shop, made a mistake, and took
down a bottle which, instead of a dram, contained inflammable gas,
wherewith balloons are filled. Of this the apprentice poured out a full
glass, and the tailor, putting it at once to his mouth, swallowed off
the gas as an agreeable reviver. It made him, however, feel very
strangely,--as if he had got a pair of wings on his shoulders, or as if
some one were playing at foot-ball with him; for he felt himself
compelled to jump up and down in the shop, and with every moment the
impetus increased.
"Eh! Gemini! Gemini!" he cried,--"what a nimble dancer I have grown!"
The apothecary's apprentice stood with his mouth gaping wide from pure
wonder, when it chanced that some one opened the door so hastily, that
the opposite window flew open also. A strong current of air poured in,
caught up the little tailor, and away he sailed through the window,
since when he has not been seen; but it happened some time after, that
the people of Sachsenhausen observed in the air a fire-ball, which
lighted the whole country with its brightness, and then, being
extinguished, fell to earth. All were eager to know what had dropt, and
ran to the place, but found nothing more than a little heap of ashes,
but with this the tongue of a shoe-buckle, a little piece of yellow
satin with flowers, and a something black, which, to look at, was like
the horn-top of a walking stick. All were in deep council how such
things could fall down from heaven in a fire-ball, when the wife of the
departed tailor came up, and, on seeing these things, wrung her hands,
took on most piteously, and cried out, "Ah, woe! that is my husband's
buckle!--Ah, woe! that is my husband's Sunday waistcoat!--Ah, woe! that
is my husband's cane-top!"--A very learned man, however, has declared
that the cane-top was no cane-top, but a meteoric ball, or an abortive
globe.
Thus was made known to the people of Sachsenhausen and to all the
world, that the poor little tailor, to whom the apothecary's apprentice
had given inflammable gas instead of a dram, was burnt in the air, and
had fallen to earth, as a meteoric ball, or an abortive globe.
_End of the History of the Little Tailor of Sadisenhausen._
* * * * *
The taverner was at length impatient that the odd guest did not cease
making himself now larger now smaller, without paying him any
attention, and held the flask of Burgundy, which he had ordered, close
to his nose. The stranger caught fast hold of it immediately, and did
not let go till he had drained the last drop: then he sank, as if
fainting, into an armchair, and could scarcely move himself.
The guests observed with astonishment that he swelled more and more
during the drinking, and now appeared quite thick and shapeless. The
fly-work of the other seemed also to be at a stand; he was about to sit
down, panting and breathless, but, perceiving how his adversary lay
there, half dead, he flew suddenly upon him, and began to belabour him
soundly with his fists. The host, however, pulled him off, and declared
that he would turn him out of the house, if he did not keep quiet. If
they both wished to show their juggler's tricks, they were welcome to
do so, but without quarrelling and fighting like blackguards.
The flying gentleman seemed to take it somewhat ill that the host
should suppose he was a juggler. He protested that he was nothing less
than a vagabond, who went about playing off legerdemain tricks; he had
formerly been ballet-master to a celebrated king, but now practised in
private as an amateur, and was called, as his functions required he
should be, Legenie. If, in his just indignation at the abominable
fellow there, he had sprung somewhat higher than was fitting, that was
his own business, and concerned no one else.
The host on his part opined, that all this did not justify any
fisty-cuffs; to which the amateur replied, that mine host did not know
the malicious fellow, or he would willingly allow his back to be
drubbed black and blue. He had formerly been a French custom-house
officer, and now gained a livelihood by blood-letting, cupping, and
shaving, and was called Monsieur Leech, a nuisance to every body, by
his awkwardness, stupidity, and gluttony. It was not enough that the
scoundrel, wherever he met him, whisked away the wine from his very
lips, as he had done just now, but he was plotting to carry off his
bride, whom he intended to carry home from Frankfort.
The Douanier had heard all that the Amateur advanced, and, glancing at
him with his little malicious eyes, said to the host, "Don't believe a
syllable that the gallows-bird there is chattering. An admirable
ballet-master, truly! who with his elephant feet crushes the legs of
the fair dancers, and with his pirouette knocks a tooth out of the
manager's jaw at the wing. And his verses, too! they have as awkward
feet as himself, and tumble here and there, like drunkards, treading
the thoughts to pap. Because he flutters heavily in the air at times,
like a drowsy gander, the conceited peacock fancies he is to have the
fair-one for his bride."
At this the indignant Amateur cried out, "thou, Satan's worm, thou
shalt feel the gander's beak," and would have fallen upon the Douanier
again, when the host seized him from behind, with strong arm, and,
amidst the rejoicing of the assembled crowd, flung him out of the
window.
No sooner was the Amateur gone than Monsieur Leech resumed the plain
solid form, in which he had entered. The people, without, took him for
quite another person than the juggler, who had played such strange
tricks, and quietly dispersed. The Douanier thanked mine host in the
most obliging terms for his aid against the Amateur, and, to prove his
gratitude, offered to shave him for nothing, and more pleasantly than
ever he had been shaved in his life before. The host felt his beard,
and, it seeming to him at the moment as if the hairs were terribly
long, he accepted Mr. Leech's offer, who accordingly set about it, at
first, with a light, dexterous hand, but on a sudden he cut his nose so
shrewdly, that the blood streamed down. The host, deeming this to be
nothing else than malice, seized the Douanier, who flew as nimbly out
of the door as the Amateur through the window. Immediately after there
arose a loud tumult without, and, scarcely allowing himself time to
stop the bleeding of his nose with lint, he flew out to see what devil
was raising this new uproar. There, to his no little astonishment, he
saw a young man, who with one hand grasped the Amateur, and with the
other the Douanier, and with rolling eyes exclaimed, "Ha! Satan's
brood! you shall not cross my way, you shall not rob me of Gamaheh!"
while his prisoners intermixed their cries of, "A madman! Save--save
us, host--he mistakes us--he will murder us--"
"Eh!" cried the host, "what are you about, my good Mr. Pepusch? Have
you been offended by these strange people? Perhaps you are mistaken in
them. This is the ballet-master, Monsieur Legenie, and this the
Douanier, Monsieur Leech."
"Ballet-master Legenie! Douanier Leech!" repeated Pepusch, in a hollow
voice.
He seemed as if waking out of a dream, and trying to recollect himself.
In the mean time two honest citizens, of his acquaintance, came out of
the inn, who joined in persuading him to be quiet, and let the fellows
go about their business.
Again Pepusch exclaimed, "Ballet-master Legenie! Douanier Leech!" and
let his arms drop powerless by his side. With the speed of wind, the
released prisoners were off, and it seemed to many in the street as if
the Amateur fled over the roofs of the neighbouring houses, and the
barber was lost in the puddle that had collected itself between the
stones before the door.
The two citizens invited the distracted Pepusch to come in and drink a
glass of old hock with them, an offer which he readily accepted, and
seemed to enjoy the generous wine, though he sate silent and
abstracted, and answered not a word to all that could be said to him.
At last, however, his features brightened up, and he said, very kindly,
"You did well, my friends, in hindering me from killing, on the spot,
those wretches, who were in my power. But you know not what dangerous
creatures lurk beneath their masks."
Pepusch paused, and it may be easily supposed with what eagerness the
citizens waited for what he had to discover. The host also had
approached them, and all three poked their heads together, with their
arms crossed upon the table, and held in their breath, that they might
not lose a syllable from Peregrine's mouth.
"See, my good people," he continued solemnly, "see; he, whom you call
the Balletmaster, Legenie, is no other than the evil, awkward genius,
Thetel; the other, whom you take for the Douanier, Leech, is the
hateful bloodsucker, the Leech-Prince. Both are in love with the
Princess, Gamaheh, who, as you know, is the daughter of the mighty
king, Sekakis, and are here to make her false to the Thistle, Zeherit.
This is the greatest folly that ever entered into a foolish brain, for,
besides the Thistle, Zeherit, there is but one person in the world to
whom she can belong, and this person would perhaps vainly enter into
the contest with Zeherit. For soon the Thistle will bloom at midnight
in full splendour and strength, and in the death of love dawns the
morning of a higher life. Now, I myself am the Thistle, Zeherit, and,
therefore, my good friends, you cannot blame me if I am indignant with
those traitors, and altogether take the whole affair much to heart."
The three listeners opened their eyes wide, and stared, speechlessly,
at Pepusch, with open mouths. They had tumbled out of the clouds, as
people say, and their heads were humming with the fall. But Pepusch
emptied a bumper, and, turning to the host, said, "Yes, yes, mine host;
you will soon see that I shall bloom as the _Cactus grandiflorus_, and
the whole country round will be impregnated with its perfume. You may
believe me, friends."
The host could utter nothing but an exclamation of stupid
surprise--"Eh! that would be the deuce!" The two citizens exchanged
mysterious glances, and one, taking George's hand, said with a doubtful
smile, "You seem to be somewhat disquieted, my good Mr. Pepusch; how,
if you were to take a glass of water, and--"
"Not a drop!" exclaimed Peregrine, interrupting the well-meant counsel;
"not a drop! Has water ever been poured upon boiling oil without
increasing the fury of the flames?--I am disquieted, you say? In truth
that may well be the case; how the devil can I be otherwise, after
having exchanged shots with my bosom friend, and then sending a bullet
through my own brain?--Here, into your hands I deliver up the murderous
weapons, now that all is over."
Pepusch drew a brace of pistols from his pocket, whereat the host
started back; the citizens snatched at them, but, no sooner had they
fairly hold of them, than they burst out into immoderate laughter. The
pistols were of wood, a plaything from the Christmas fair.
Pepusch seemed to pay no attention to what was going on about him; he
sate in deep thought, and continually cried out, "If I could but find
him! if I could but find him!"
The host took courage, and modestly asked, "Whom do you mean, my good
Mr. Pepusch? Whom can you not find?"
"Know you," said Pepusch solemnly, and fixing the host with a keen
gaze,--"know you any one to be compared, in might and wondrous power,
with the king Sekakis; then name his name and I will kiss your feet.
But for the rest, I would ask you if you know any one who is acquainted
with Mr. Peregrine Tyss, and can tell me where I may meet him at this
present moment?"
To this the host replied, smirking amiably, "Here I can serve you,
respected Mr. Pepusch, and inform you, that he was with me an hour ago,
taking a glass of wine. He was very thoughtful, and when I asked 'What
news on 'Change?' he suddenly cried out, 'Yes, sweet Gamaheh! I have
renounced you! Be happy in my George's arms!' Upon this a thin curious
voice said, 'Let us now go to Leuwenhock's, and peep into the
horoscope.' Immediately Mr. Tyss emptied his glass, and they went away
together--that is, Mr. Tyss and the voice without a body. Probably they
have gone to Leuwenhock's, who is lamenting that his well-disciplined
fleas have, one and all, deserted him."
The words were scarcely out of the host's mouth than George started up
in a fury, and, seizing him by the throat, cried out, "Scoundrel, what
do you say? Renounced? renounced her?--Gamaheh!--Peregrine!--Sekakis!"
The host's story, however, was perfectly correct. He had heard Master
Flea, who was summoning Peregrine, in his fine silver tones, to go to
the microscopist, Leuwenhock, for what purpose the reader knows
already. Peregrine had really gone thither, and was received by
Leuwenhock with that soft odious friendliness, and that humility of
compliment, which announce the burthensome and reluctant recognition of
superiority. But, as Mr. Tyss had the microscopic glass in the pupil of
his eye, all this complimenting and subservience availed Antony von
Leuwenhock nothing in the world; on the contrary, Peregrine only the
more discovered the hatred which filled the heart of the microscopist.
While he protested how much he felt honoured and rejoiced by Mr. Tyss's
visit, the thoughts ran thus:--"I wish that the devil had plunged you
ten thousand fathoms deep in the abyss! But I must feign friendship and
submission towards you, as the cursed constellation has placed me under
your dominion, and my whole being in some sort depends upon you. But
perhaps I may be able to outwit you, for, in spite of your high
descent, you are a simple fool. You fancy that Doertje Elverdink loves
you, and will perhaps marry her. Only come to me about it, and you fall
into my hands, in spite of the power that dwells within you without
your knowing it, and I will employ every thing to ruin you, and gain
possession of Doertje and Master Flea."
Peregrine naturally regulated his conduct by these thoughts, and took
good care not to say a syllable about Doertje Elverdink, and pretended
that he came to see Leuwenhock's collection of natural rarities.